Just As I Promised
by Eliza Castle
Summary: Will and Elizabeth have only one day to spend together before being cruelly separated for a decade.
1. From Ship to Shore

_Just as I Promised_

Elizabeth solemnly climbed down the ladder to the waiting longboat without even once looking back the way she had come. Only once she was securely seated in the boat, with the oars at ready, did she steal a glance back up towards the deck of the _Black Pearl_. She felt a twinge of sadness. Not a single one of the ragtag group of men who had formed such an integral part of her life of late had bothered to look over the railing to see her on her way. However, in all honesty, she had not expected them to, nor had she really wanted it. A clean break from that particular part of her life was definitely in order – if such a thing was even possible at this point. The ordeal she would soon begin was more than enough to occupy her mind without adding the welfare of the ship's crew to her list. She was sure that from time to time she would wonder what had become of them, but not today. It didn't seem fair to believe that for them, life would most likely return to what they expected – an endless quarrel over ownership of the _Pearl_, accompanied by their eternal pursuit of ill gotten gains, women of questionable moral value, and rum— most _especially _rum.

_My life is the one that is about to undergo a drastic change—in more ways than one, _she thought as she pushed off from the side of the ship, simultaneously casting a longing glance towards the other ship anchored a few hundred yards away, and the lone figure standing forlornly on its deck. She could see Will standing beside a broken section of railing aboard the _Flying Dutchman,_ staring in her direction. He was too far away to make out the exact expression on his face, but she knew if she was closer she would be able to see the familiar sadness from his childhood had returned to his eyes. Perhaps she was imagining it, but she thought she could discern the faintest glimmer of a shy smile – one for her and her alone. An ever so tiny flicker of joy surfaced as she cast an equally shy smile back in his direction. She then reluctantly tore her eyes away from him and put all of her concentration into rowing ashore.

It was mind numbingly difficult to stay focused on the task at hand and not on what lay ahead of her. It wasn't as if rowing to shore took all that much concentration, anyway. Besides, she didn't exactly have to land in any one particular spot now did she? All that mattered was that she made it to shore. Will could just appear from nothingness wherever she happened to make landfall, so why worry about drifting off course? Elizabeth shuddered in revulsion at the thought of that particular one of Will's newly acquired abilities. It was going to take some serious adjustments on her part to accept that Will, her husband of just a few hours, now had certain _talents _that mere mortals lacked. It was small consolation to think that he had no more knowledge of what he could now do than she did, and it wasn't as if she would be by his side as he learned more about his new obligations either. An unexpected coldness invaded her limbs as the unfairness of it all threatened to consume her.

Elizabeth pulled in the oars for a few minutes while she futilely tried to rub some warmth back into her arms—However, cold from fear was far harder to alleviate than cold caused by weather conditions. The temptation to see Will again won over, and she looked towards the _Dutchman. _She was not at all surprised to not see him still standing on deck. Turning partway around on the narrow bench to look for him on shore also proved unsuccessful. She hadn't expected to see him there, but the compulsion to look was nearly overwhelming. Wherever he was, he must have had a good reason – he never did anything without one. He had been that way for as long as she had known him. Elizabeth shivered again with the mysterious cold, as she realized that she was going to have to adjust to not knowing _exactly _where he was or, for that matter, not even having a vague idea of where he was. _Isn't not being able to see him enough of an ordeal? Would it hurt for me to at least know he's safe?_

Tears that had threatened since the end of the battle welled up in her eyes. She distracted herself by concentrating on the cloth-wrapped bundle resting on the bottom of the boat towards the stern. Mr. Gibbs had tossed it in just before Elizabeth had started to climb down to the boat, mumbling something about it containing everything she needed to get by, but never once looking her in the eyes. Elizabeth recognized it as the classic Gibbs way of acknowledging to her that the _everything _she really needed was the one thing none of them could provide – that part would be left up to her.

Elizabeth shook her head and drew a deep breath to clear her head of such depressing thoughts. She would have ten years to agonize over what had happened, but right now she had something much happier to look forward to. This was her and Will's _wedding _day. It hadn't exactly come about as they had originally planned – truthfully, it hadn't been planned at all—it just sort of _happened. _She smiled and giggled at the memory of Will's reaction to her calling Barbossa to officiate, and his unabashedly delighted reaction to her enthusiastic, "I do!" It had long since ceased to matter to her when, where, or under what circumstances they married – it only mattered that they were. Considering that Will had insisted on formalizing their relationship in the middle of a literal fight for their lives, she felt secure in her belief that the conditions had mattered little to him as well.

If reliving their unorthodox wedding wasn't enough to keep her mind occupied, there was still their forthcoming wedding night to consider. An apparently deserted beach was not a location that had ever – or _would _ever have—occurred to either of them to consummate their marriage. Elizabeth had long since lost count of the number of places Will had rejected for a possible tryst because they lacked privacy, and yet _every_ last one of them were far more secluded than this stretch of sand ever would be. She had always known Will's hesitation and excuses stemmed more from a sense of propriety and timing than a need for seclusion, but even he would have to see the humor in their situation – humor that they both desperately needed.

Elizabeth both anxiously anticipated and was uncharacteristically nervous about what would soon happen. As the well bred, sheltered, and spoiled daughter of the governor she was not expected to know exactly what went on between men and women in the privacy of their bedroom until she married. That was not to say that she didn't know some details – she had managed to worm bits of information out of her maid, Estrella, on rare occasion. She was also quite observant and well aware of how her body responded to Will's touch

She rolled her eyes at the memory of her former governess–a woman she had not seen since she was sixteen—coming to see her just days before the wedding at her father's request, no doubt for the express purpose of instructing her about her wifely duties. The dried up husk of a woman had been agonizingly ambiguous as to exactly what those duties entailed. For all intents and purposes, the only useful bit of advice Elizabeth gleaned from her meanderings was to let nature take its course – like she couldn't have figured that out on her own. The rest of what she had said sounded somewhat horrific, but surely that wasn't true? If it was, then surely the human race would have long since died out.

While she and Will had never openly discussed any details of their wedding night beyond where it would take place, she knew that he was just as inexperienced as she was. He had freely shared that information with her shortly after their engagement. There were no topics of discussion that were taboo between them. Obviously, she couldn't say for sure – she couldn't exactly go around taking a survey, but she got the distinct impression that it was perhaps a bit unusual for a young man of his age in Port Royal to have never been with a woman. All she knew for certain was that, when she was with him, there was always a strong sense of an unexplored something _more _that she wanted and she had no intention of waiting any longer.

The more physical aspect of their relationship was perhaps the one subject were they stood on equal ground. Will had patiently and unbegrudgingly learned all the social graces he would need to survive in Elizabeth's world: the proper way to greet people, what was acceptable and what was not at formal dinner parties, how to dress, how to dance – how to be something he was not nor had ever had much of a desire to be. He had indeed proven to be a most adept student in spite of numerous frustrations. In return, he had taught her to handle a sword, mainly as an outlet for both of their pent up desires, but also because that's what she had wanted. At the time, neither could have known that either of their lessons would prove as useful as they had. Will, in his crucial negotiations with Cutler Beckett, over tea no less, and Elizabeth cutting down their enemies right and left with her blade on multiple occasions–even during their unorthodox nuptials. But starting from this day, they would each need to be both teacher and student as they started a life together—only to have to learn to live apart.

The emotional extremes Elizabeth was unavoidably experiencing were beginning to take their toll on her. The closer to shore she got, the more difficult it became for her to deal with her inner turmoil and the further she drew in to herself. She no longer paid any heed to her progress, but mindlessly rowed the boat, shutting out everything but the monotony of her task. So oblivious was she to her location that she was completely unaware she had reached the shore until the oars hit the bottom and the boat scrapped across the sands in the shallows. She dropped the oars as if they were burning her hands, and sat for a few moments with her head hanging. Her breath was coming in short pants – not from exhaustion, but from being on the verge of panic. She steeled herself for what she might see as she lifted her head. It was as she expected—there was little before her but open water – the _Black Pearl _would soon be out of view, while the _Flying Dutchman _had sailed further out from shore. She took a deep breath and turned her head towards the beach, expecting to see Will waiting for her. But no one was there. She continued scanning the area as her panic grew. _Had they been wrong about having one day together before he left? Had the ten years already begun?_

"Take off your boots."

Elizabeth spun around in her seat to see Will, standing barefoot in the water at the boat's stern. He carried his boots in one hand and had the Chest containing his heart tucked under his arm. He had also carefully pulled the edges of his shirt together in an attempt to cover the hideous wound on his chest, but parts of it were still visible. Elizabeth stared at him, frozen in place. She was vaguely aware at how unconcerned he seemed to be with their situation. Was it not affecting him as much as it was her? Her brain fought to process the instructions he was giving her.

"Elizabeth? Did you hear me? Take off your boots and leave them in the boat. You don't want to get them wet," Will said as he carelessly dropped his own boots into the boat and then set the Chest down beside them. He noticed the uncharacteristic unfocused look in Elizabeth's eyes.

Elizabeth continued to stare at Will or more specifically, at the wound on his chest. She slowly peeled off her boots and dropped them in the boat. The last one had barely bounced off the boards before Elizabeth was in the water, slogging her way away from Will – not having said a single word to her husband and not once looking back.

Will watched as the crew of the _Pearl_ lowered the long boat into the water. Elizabeth kept her head down throughout the entire process—she didn't even look up as she climbed down the side of the ship into the tiny boat. It wasn't until she had pushed away from the _Pearl_ that she even paused long enough to gaze at him across the expanse of water. He was unsettled by the apparent lack of emotion on her face. It was not the look one expected of a woman who had, just a scant few hours earlier, been deliriously happy at the prospect of both starting over – possibly somewhere new, far from the horrors they had faced, and beginning a life together with her new husband. Elizabeth managed one sad smile for him before she tore her eyes away, and began her current task – rowing the boat to shore.

For a brief second, Will considered changing his plan and joining her for the short trip, but he still needed to talk to Jack first. He knew that he would now have the same ability to teleport as Davy Jones had—only he was still a bit unclear on how the process worked. Unlike blacksmithing, this job had no apprenticeship. What better way to try out his new skill than to pay Jack one last visit? If the attempt didn't work, it would be best to know now, before Elizabeth had gotten too far away with the boat. Not being able to spend this one last day with her was not an option. He would swim to shore if he had to.

He turned from the water, went back to the Captain's cabin–his cabin now—gathered up his coat and put it on. He reached into one pocket and found the precious token that he had so carefully guarded for so long. It glinted in his hand as untied his necklace and added it to his collection. Sighing, he turned to the small wooden Chest sitting on the table and picked up it. If there were any other useful items in the room, he did not take time to look for them. There were things he needed to accomplish before going to the island, and he wanted to get there before Elizabeth.

He went back out onto the deck, noting as he did the numerous crew members going about their duties as if nothing had changed—but things _had_ changed. The crew had been returned to their human form, and many of them would be leaving the _Dutchman's _service the next day. He already knew that Bootstrap would stay, but he had no idea how many others would choose the same. Most likely those unfortunate men who were so far into their hundred year obligation that they had no one left who remembered them, but how many were there? Will knew that the crew would be left shorthanded and wondered how he would find replacements. He could worry about that later. This was _his_ day–his _only _day—and he was not going to allow such trivial matters to distract him.

Will looked across the water, to the ship that had played such an important role in his life for the past two years. How was he to get there? _It's now or never, _he thought, realizing, appalled, how much truth there was to that. Will took a deep breath and one determined step forward. That was all it took. He found himself in the Captain's cabin aboard the _Pearl_. As for which captain claimed it at the moment, he had no clue. There were a _few_ things that he would not miss—the constant bickering of who was in charge of the _Black Pearl_ was most assuredly one of them.

Jack had his back to Will, and thus did not realize he was no longer alone. He mumbled incomprehensibly to himself, as he frantically searched for some elusive prize. With Jack, there was no guessing what that could possibly be—although a full bottle of rum would have been a valid guess. Will watched him for a moment before speaking.

"Jack?"

Jack Sparrow let out a girlish shriek as he jumped, spun around and simultaneously drew his pistol to confront the intruder. He blinked several times to assure himself that the person standing in front of him was not simply a figment of his overactive imagination, much to his relief and horror it was not.

"William! That's a most efficacious trick you've taught yourself there, but perhaps you could learn to knock first?" he said gesturing wildly at the door with his pistol. "I might have been entertaining some delicate young ladies and…"Jack shrugged innocently as Will cut him off.

"Jack," Will repeated more sternly.

"Shouldn't you be elsewhere?" Jack asked, nodding his head in the general direction of the island. He made a shooing motion with his hands, still paying no caution to the firearm in his hand. "I would think you have other items on today's agenda than paying me a visit—kind though it is." Jack bowed graciously, as he continued to flap his hands in an effort to get rid of his uninvited guest.

"I need your help."

Jack raised an eyebrow, but still did not lower the pistol. He looked Will up and down before speaking. "William, if you have come to seek my advice on how to best proceed with deflowering your virgin bride, might I tactfully submit that you return to your ship with all haste and consult with your own father?" Jack rolled his eyes and shrugged as he looked curiously at the pistol, as if having just noticed it, before haphazardly sticking it back in his belt. "As for my advice," he added putting both hands on his chest, "Might I suggest that it is perhaps most fortuitous for you that you're already dead… mostly… so to speak." He turned back around to continue his search.

"Jack! I'm serious: somebody will have to take care of Elizabeth. I won't be able to." Will was quickly becoming exasperated.

"Aha! I knew it was here somewhere," Jack said gleefully, as he extracted a nearly full bottle of rum from a cavity hidden beneath a seat cushion. Jack admired the hazy glass bottle for a moment before uncorking it and taking a long pull from it. After brief consideration he offered it to Will, who waved it off.

"I can't leave not knowing she will have someplace to go, someplace safe," Will spat out, his agitation growing by the second.

Jack retracted the proffered bottle, shrugged his shoulders and took another swig. His face held a slightly puzzled expression as he looked at Will. It was as if it had, at that very instant, occurred to him that the boy who had helped him to escape certain death in Port Royal, not once, but twice, had suddenly turned into a man. How had that escaped his notice until now?

"Am I to understand that you wish for me, _Captain _Jack Sparrow, to endeavor to keep an eye on your virago of a wife? I've asked you this before and never quite gotten a satisfactory answer, but what's in it for me?"

Will shrugged, his face showed no emotion. "Nothing."

Jack screwed his face up in a mask of deep contemplation. "In case you haven't noticed, mate, _that _one is quite adept at taking care of herself. She's killed a man in cold blood," he declared, patting his own chest to make sure he was really still alive.

"And it didn't exactly take, did it?" Will retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Jack raised an eyebrow at Will, took another long pull from his bottle of rum, then stroked his beard braids. "Well, now, I suppose as I'm still the Pirate Lord of the Caribbean, and your beloved is my King–thanks to meself of course—I am obligated, although not entirely inspired, to keep an eye on her."

"You'll do it then?"

Jack's face again contorted as he concentrated on Will's request. "Then again, we pirates are notoriously disloyal when it comes to respecting authority, so that might not be quite suitable inspiration to me."

A faint smile flashed across Will's face and his eyes narrowed for a moment as he realized he did have something that Jack wanted – something that only he, Will Turner, Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, could offer. Something that even Jack couldn't resist. "I could ensure that you would never die by water: washed overboard in a hurricane, keelhauled, forced to walk the plank – again I might add—shipwrecked, that sort of thing."

Jack stopped mid-swig and lowered the bottle just enough to prevent even one small droplet of his beloved rum from escaping. Will had his complete attention now. "Do tell, dear William. How do you plan to accomplish something like _that_?"

Will pulled the edge of his shirt further to one side to fully reveal the scar he now bore on his chest as he stared Jack straight in the eye with a distinct air of smugness.

"Done."

"Done?" Will repeated incredulously. He had expected to have to incorporate a bit more persuasion to get Jack to agree to his request.

Jack sat down in his chair and propped his feet up on the table, the rum bottle now dangling precariously at his side. "Dear William, I find myself inclined to pay another visit to Shipwreck City before I embark for a much needed vacation in Tortuga. I shall simply request that one of the fine upstanding citizens of said city pop by and pick her up, when it's time. Who could possibly resist the opportunity to escort the Pirate King herself back to her court? Beyond that, we'll have to see what her nibs has in mind. Of course, if she finds herself in need of my services–unlikely though that may be—I shall find it in my heart to help the best I can."

"It's that simple?"

"It's that simple." Jack restated with a smile, for once sounding truly sincere. He looked around uncomfortably for a second to ensure no one else was listening. "We'll all keep an eye out for her." Jack nervously eyed the Chest tucked under Will's arm as he spoke.

Will knew that Jack meant what he said. In spite of everything that had gone before, he was positive that this time Jack was telling the complete unvarnished truth–and for once, he could trust that he had no ulterior motives. Elizabeth had been right all along–Jack was a good man. It was just difficult to see that sometimes.

"Thank you, Jack."

"It's my pleasure," He stopped to ponder what he had said for a second. "Well, perhaps it's not _entirely_ a pleasure. Just consider it a wedding gift or whatever. Besides, I've recently deduced that those adventurous souls who heed the call of the sea would be well advised to maintain a harmonious relationship with any and all undead sea captains they might encounter–even if said captain's recently acquired spouse has a penchant for sending innocent sailors to their doom. Now go!" Jack stood up and once again shooed Will away with his hands.

"I won't forget this," Will promised as he tried to untangle Jack's verbal web while simultaneously removing his boots.

"You do that," Jack said slowly, while nodding his head in the direction of the door. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion, as he watched Will stuff his socks into his boots, then pick them up in his free hand. He shifted the other arm to settle the Chest more securely.

Will nodded to Jack as he looked at the door he had indicated, smiled to himself, took one step towards it and disappeared leaving no evidence that he had ever been there at all.

"I'm never going to get used to that," Jack muttered, as a sudden chill washed over him. He stood stock still for a moment before raising the rum bottle in his right hand. "Here's to you Captain Turner—may all that you truly desire one day be yours." With that he dropped into his chair, propped his boots on the table and took a long pull from the bottle.

Jack's last words were still echoing in Will's ears when he materialized knee deep in the waves at the far end of Elizabeth's boat. She was turned away from him, scanning the shore for something, someone—_him_? She either hadn't heard the subtle splash of water caused by his arrival or she had attributed the sound to something else. Surely she didn't doubt that he would be here?

Will quickly assessed the situation, while Elizabeth continued to survey the shoreline. The first order of business was to secure the boat–it would quite possibly be Elizabeth's only means of leaving this place. He trusted Jack's word in regards to seeing to Elizabeth's safety, and although he usually meant well, Will had long since learned that what Jack promised and what Jack was able to accomplish were not always one and the same thing.

"Take off your boots," Will instructed, as he readjusted his shirt to conceal as much of his wound as possible.

Elizabeth jumped, while simultaneously spinning around in her seat to see him standing barefoot in the water at the boat's stern—boots in one hand, with the Chest tucked under his other arm. Elizabeth stared at him unmoving. The fear that she was regretting her decision was beginning to form in his brain. _We've made it this far, she can't give up now._

"Elizabeth? Did you hear me? Take off your boots and leave them in the boat. You don't want to get them wet," Will told her again, then carelessly dropped his own boots into the boat before carefully setting the Chest down beside them. He noticed the uncharacteristic unfocused look in Elizabeth's eyes. The fear that she was regretting her decision was beginning to worsened. He had assumed she had sensed his presence by now. Didn't she always?

Elizabeth continued to stare at Will, or more specifically, at the gash on his chest. She slowly peeled off her boots and dropped them in the boat. The last one had barely bounced off the boards before Elizabeth was in the water, slogging her way down the beach, away from Will–not having said a single word to her husband and not once looking back.

The fear that Elizabeth regretted her choice was increasing exponentially. Without thinking, he pushed the boat parallel with the shore; just far enough that it would not drift away–all while taking care to not step on dry land. If Elizabeth's unexpected flight meant that she did not want to face what lay ahead of them, then there was no point in using his one day. He would simply return to his ship, begin his duty, and stay there _forever–_but with the knowledge that for a few hours before he died, he had been married to the woman he thought he could never have, but had always wanted.

Will kept his face a mask of calm with his eyes focused on Elizabeth, and watched her determined trek away from him with concern. This was not typical behavior for Elizabeth–nor was it what he had expected. It certainly wasn't what he had hoped for.

"Elizabeth!"

She stopped in her tracks, wrapped her arms around herself and turned towards him. She kept her eyes downcast, but Will could still sense the fear in her, along with tears ready to break free at any moment.

She was clearly in shock—but who could blame her? In the span of just a few days, she had lost her father, nearly lost her fiancé to a misunderstanding between them, been in danger of being stranded in Davy Jones' locker forever, again almost lost her fiancé to the sea when he had slipped from the submerged _Pearl_, survived a mutiny led—unbeknownst to her—by the one man she trusted above all others, volunteered herself to be what for all practical purposes was a hostage to the pirate lord of Singapore–as always, in an attempt to save and regain the respect of the man she would stop at nothing to have. And yet, she had managed to come though all that relatively unscathed. But her emotional turmoil had been just beginning. There had been yet to come her election as King of the Brethren Court, an unexpected but timely reconciliation with Will, the terrifying release of Calypso, leading the pirates into battle, and best—and yet worst— of all becoming Will's wife and his widow all in the space of a few minutes. If anyone had a reason to be in a state of shock, it had to be Elizabeth Turner.

"Elizabeth," Will called to her softly one more time. "We need to secure the boat. I need you to help me. Can you do that?" He felt as if he was talking to a frightened child, but he had no idea what else to do.

Elizabeth trudged back to the long boat; eyes still focused on the ground and unspeaking, she grabbed a painter and began tugging at it.

"We just need to get it above the high tide mark," Will said conversationally, as he pushed against the stern. He knew full well that she knew what had to be done with the boat, but he was willing to try anything to elicit some sort of response from her–even if that meant mindless banter.

The beach's gentle slope and the still, wet sand made their task an easy one. Elizabeth was sufficiently aware of her surroundings to notice when they had moved the boat far enough inland. As soon as they reached that point, she dropped the line and dropped into a sitting position in the sand–staring out at the water, but apparently not really focused on much of anything.

"Elizabeth? We still need to find a place to make a campsite. Do you think you can carry some of the supplies?" Will suggested. _Maybe she just needs something to distract her?_

Elizabeth did not overtly acknowledge that Will had spoken to her, but sighed, stood up and covered the few steps between her and the boat. She looked inside, picked up her boots, the bundle Mr. Gibbs had dropped in at the last minute, one only slightly damp blanket and stood perfectly still, staring at her feet now, awaiting her next set of directions.

Will gathered up his own boots, the Chest, another small bundle that had been obscured by the one Elizabeth now carried and set off for an outcrop of basalt stones that looked like a promising location to make camp.

"Once we find a spot, we'll need to gather some driftwood for a fire. I know it's warm outside now, but it still gets cool at night. We might be glad of it later. I didn't think to bring any supplies from the _Dutchman,_ I honestly don't know if there were any,so I hope whatever we might need is in one of these bundles. Something to eat might be nice. When was the last time you ate something? Maybe we can scavenge something from around here. I know it's not what anyone would expect for their wedding supper, and it's most certainly nothing like the banquet we were supposed to have – _should_ have had," he paused for a minute, "but under the circumstances it's the best we can do." Will knew he was babbling and wondered if Elizabeth even noticed. It wasn't something he ever recalled doing before in his life, but his wife's silence was beginning to scare him. What if she didn't snap out of it? How could he leave her here like this–_by herself_?

The irregular circle of large shiny black boulders some fifty yards away looked promising. It would provide some shelter, however minimal, it was defensible–within reason—and would give them some small degree of privacy–although by now Will was almost resigned to the possibility that there would be no need for it. No matter how much he wanted her, married or not, he wouldn't–_couldn't _have her like this. As had always been the case, her physical, and now emotional, safety far outweighed any physical desires of his own.

Will watched curiously as Elizabeth struck out for the stone circle on her own. Sometime between him asking her to help carry their meager supplies and now, she had apparently regained some of her senses. If she was aware enough of her surroundings to look to her own survival, that would certainly alleviate one of Will's many worries. He suddenly regretted ever having considered departing the island early, as he shouldered his burden and followed after Elizabeth.

She never once looked back to see if he was following her. She simply continued her single-minded and determined march towards the rocks. Will could have easily caught up with her and even beaten her to the circle, but he instead chose to follow behind and see what she would do. Her quick, decisive pace consumed the space between the longboat and their potential shelter at an alarming rate.

Elizabeth reached white, sand covered center of the ring just a few paces ahead of Will. She dropped her assorted parcels at her feet and carefully surveyed the entire area. "This will do," she said softly and emotionlessly in Will's general direction as she looked towards him, but not quite at him.

Will smiled softly at her and nodded in agreement. He wasn't sure she even noticed. He had the distinct impression that she was looking more over the top of his head than directly at his face. He was still unsettled by what he saw in her eyes – or rather what he did _not_ see there. The familiar twinkle of mischief that normally emanated from them when she looked at him was not there. The woman standing before him looked like his beloved Elizabeth, but the Elizabeth he knew, the one he had just married, was locked inside, and he had no idea how to help her break free of her prison. He felt guilty for ever allowing the thought of leaving her now to ever enter his mind.

"Firewood."

Will raised an eyebrow questioningly. He had been so caught up in his concern for her that he almost hadn't heard her speak, much less immediately process what she had said. He quickly noticed that her gaze had shifted downwards ever so slightly. She was now looking him directly in the face. The smile on his face expanded, as he realized that she was finally beginning to acknowledge his presence.

"Yes, we need to find firewood. Will you help me?" he asked quietly as he offered her his hand.

Elizabeth's eyes drifted to his hand. Her own fingers extended as if she wanted nothing more than to take it in hers, but she made no effort to actually do so.

Will slowly dropped his hand back to his side and set off towards the base of the cliffs, where assorted pieces of driftwood and other combustible bits of flotsam and jetsam had a tendency to accumulate. As he began picking up the most suitable scraps in terms of size and degree of dryness, he wondered how long it would be before the remains of the _Endeavor_ and other ships damaged in the maelstrom battle would wash ashore. It was odd to think that by the next time he would have the chance to visit this place – not that he ever cared to return—all vestiges of the battle would have long since disappeared. The idea was too painful to consider, so he tore his mind from it and focused on happier times when he had conducted similar searches on the beach–with Elizabeth. They had been children then. _How did we wind up here? Like this?_

After several trips back and forth in total silence, Will decided to take another shot at breaking through the wall Elizabeth had built around herself. "Do you remember playing on the shore when we were children? Your governess used to take us there, not too long after they rescued me," Will asked as he picked up a driftwood branch and brandished it like a sword. "We pretended we were fighting pirates–you wanted to hold them prisoner to make them tell us where the treasure was hidden, and I just wanted to kill them." He thrust the makeshift sword in her direction spinning towards her.

Elizabeth stopped walking and looked at him, her expression still grim, but at least beginning to show some reactions to what he was saying now – that _had _to be an improvement, didn't it?

"And look at where I ended up–married to the Pirate King. Who would have imagined that?" he continued as he took a step towards Elizabeth. "If you're the King, what exactly does that make _my_ title?" he added with one eyebrow raised questioningly–the humor in his voice clearly evident.

Elizabeth still did not answer, but for one brief second Will thought he saw a twinkle of mischief return to her sad, brown eyes, but she unexpectedly turned and continued walking down the beach, picking up more pieces of driftwood for their campfire. Suddenly, she stopped and turned back towards her husband–her eyes once again sparkling. "I just do _not _for the life of me understand why your father would stand for this!" she perfectly mimicked the high pitched, clipped and overly arrogant sounding voice of her childhood governess. "That Turner boy is going to be the ruination of you one day, Miss Elizabeth. Mark my words, you should. Mark my words!"

Will broke out in laughter at Elizabeth's spot on impression of the woman. "I suppose she never liked me too much, did she?"

Elizabeth shook her head slightly. "No, she didn't. She still doesn't." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"Was I?" Will asked quietly, the laughter quickly forgotten.

"Were you what?" A look of confusion crossed Elizabeth's face.

"Your ruination." Will's expression was totally devoid of emotion, but inside he was not nearly so calm as he appeared or sounded. He hadn't intended to ask her anything like that. It had just slipped from his mouth without prior thought, but if she had any regrets, it was better to address them now—while they still had time to rectify the situation, rather than allow it to fester for years. If what he understood of his obligation was correct, there was no room for uncertainty–it was an all or nothing deal.

Elizabeth gave him a pained look, as the light again faded from her eyes. She turned on her heels and began to stalk back towards the camp. Will could tell from her movements that she was not angry–although anyone else might have interpreted her actions as such—but she was upset. There was no doubt in his mind that his comment had unsettled her. Will allowed her a head start and then followed behind. As hard as he tried to convince himself that her reaction was an improvement, it still did not quell his fears for her emotional stability.

Elizabeth carried her armload of wood to the camp and deposited it on the stack they had already begun. She wrapped her arms around herself and stood perfectly still, staring at the ground. Will dropped the wood he carried just short of the circle and quietly slipped up behind Elizabeth. He slowly and cautiously wrapped his arms around her and laid his cheek against her hair.

Elizabeth turned in his arms to face him, and rested her balled up fists on his chest. She then lay her cheek against her own hands, closed her eyes and leaned in towards him. Will could feel her tremble as he held her tightly. He gently stoked her back and her hair in the same manner that a parent would to calm an upset child. But she wasn't a child; she was a grown woman, his _wife_, and he had no idea how to take care of her in this state. And so he simply continued to hold her in the fading twilight, until he could feel her start to relax. He felt her hands open against his chest and then slid up to cling to his neck. She had been crying so softly that he hadn't been able to hear her, but he could now feel the warmth of her tears on his bare skin.

Will fervently wished he could tell what was going through Elizabeth's mind, if for no other reason than to try to share her burden. It was frustrating to realize that the pair of them had grown and matured to a point of understanding that any and _every _joy, burden, inconvenience, or what have you, was something they had to face together, and yet he had no idea how to reach her like this. Her current behavior was something completely and totally out of his realm of experience.

Of the pair of them, he truly believed she had been given the worst part of the deal. He had been given a second chance at life –provided he met the requirements. He knew where he would go, he knew what was expected of him, and he would have his father with him for guidance. Most importantly, he knew that Elizabeth would wait for him as long as they needed and never give it a second thought. But between the Company and Davy Jones' curse, Elizabeth had been deprived of everything she had known. Her father had been murdered, and this time tomorrow he would be leaving her too. He knew she had relatives back in England, but they were not close contact. Besides, there were still arrest warrants out for them both. That clearly ruled out relatives, no matter how sympathetic, as a safe haven. _Where can she go? How will she survive? _

The memory of Weatherby Swann, explaining to him that his biggest concern in granting him and Elizabeth permission to marry was not Will's lack of social standing or the fact that he was the son of a pirate, but his lack of financial resources, surfaced unexpectedly. It hadn't mattered that Will was a master sword smith and that his services were in high demand. What mattered was that it was a profession that would never earn him enough money to provide the kind of life Elizabeth had enjoyed growing up. What would her father say now that she was potentially facing a life of poverty–one that neither he nor Will could save her from? The knowledge that she was a resourceful young woman was little consolation, at the moment.


	2. Reality Sets In

A vague sense of where she was began to sink into Elizabeth's conscious, as she clung tighter to Will. An overwhelming feeling of exhaustion clouded her thinking. _I remember leaving the Pearl. I remember Will teasing me about playing pirates. _She sighed heavily, tilting her face, eyes tightly closed, up to Will's. The faintest of smiles formed on her lips, as she felt him lean in to touch his forehead to hers in a gesture that was both familiar and comforting. She slowly became aware that he stopped stoking her back and allowed his hands to settle at her waist. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes to gaze at Will's face. His eyes were tightly closed, framed by his long eyelashes. The strain of what they had been through and what they had yet to face was clear in his tense expression. Gently caressing his face with her fingertips, Elizabeth was rewarded with a faint smile. She sighed tenderly at the touch of his hand rising to cover hers, yet he still kept his eyes shut.

"You have to be very tired. When was the last time you slept?"

Elizabeth startled ever so slightly at the unexpected question. "I don't know. It feels like days – it _has_ been days," she answered, sagging further into his arms. "I think I could sleep for a week." Elizabeth noticed Will's smile flicker in amusement as his eyes opened, and stared deep into hers. It was impossible for her not to be drawn into his gaze. She would have happily stayed lost there, had circumstances allowed for such a thing. Will broke off the gaze, raised his head and pressed his lips to her forehead in a kiss that was not so much a show of affection, but more of a gesture of reassurance.

"Perhaps you would feel better if you rested for a while?"

"But…"

"But?" The briefest flash of sorrow tempered with pain crossed face with the sudden realization as to the nature of Elizabeth's concerned 'but.' "I'll still be here when you wake up. I won't leave you," he murmured dolefully, trying to cover the desolation in his own voice.

"Yet," she sadly pointed out.

"Shhh," he murmured, putting his fingers to her lips. "We don't have to face that right now."

Elizabeth offered an almost imperceptible nod of her head, steering their conversation away from the eventuality that they had no choice but to face. "I am tired."

"Then it's settled. You'll try to get some sleep and I'll take care of everything else."

Elizabeth looked him straight in the eyes, raised an eyebrow and gave him the briefest of smiles. "Done."

"Done." His eyes sparkled with amusement, answering her.

Elizabeth reluctantly pulled herself away from Will, turning to retrieve the lone blanket they had been given. She turned a complete circle, surveying the ring of stones, trying to decide the most suitable place to spread out her makeshift bed. She eventually decided on a small alcove formed by the rocks, towards the island side of the circle. The space was a bit narrow, but still plenty wide enough for two people - especially for two people who intended to sleep close together. Given the rather insubstantial size of the well worn, moth eaten and seriously scratchy blanket, it might very well not have mattered which two people were using it – the options were share or do without.

An unanticipated feeling of anxiety welled up in her as she flipped open the blanket and spread it over the sugary white sand. She frowned and chewed her lip, puzzling over her inexplicable apprehension over sleeping with Will. He was her husband now. It was what she had wanted before she had even understood what her feelings for him meant. It was their wedding night. And it was quite possibly their last chance to be together for years - perhaps even eternity.

Will quietly watched Elizabeth while she worked. He noticed the slight tremor in her shoulders as she smoothed the rough material over the sand. He recognized the subconscious gesture immediately – for she only did that when she was nervous. He knew that if he could see her face she would be chewing on her lower lip. It was what she always did when she was unsure of what to do next.

"Will? Would you mind sitting with me until I fall asleep?" Her voice was soft, but trembled slightly. She still stood with her back to him.

"Of course. Whatever you ask, whatever you want, I'll do what I can to make sure you have it."

Elizabeth turned around, sat down on the edge of the blanket and smiled at Will.

"I want you." This time her voice was clear and strong.

Will crossed to where she sat and eased himself down beside her.

"You have me," he pointed out.

"Not yet I haven't, but I shall," she said teasingly, glancing sideways at him through lowered lashes.

"As you wish," he replied, putting one hand on her neck, leaning in and kissing her temple. "But you're going to have to wait a bit longer. Now try to get some sleep."

Elizabeth stretched out on her right side and rested her head in Will's lap. She felt him weaving his fingers through her hair. Had she not been so very tired she might just have balked at being told she still had to wait to celebrate their marriage, but the truth was that Will was right - she did need some sleep and she needed it now.

Will contented himself with stroking her dark blonde locks and running the silky strands through his fingers. It would have to suffice for now, but later – later they would have time for more. Will leaned back against a rock, closed his eyes and had nearly drifted off to sleep himself when she spoke.

"I love you."

Will smiled to himself. "I love you, too," he responded, his voice tinged with the desire he felt for her. He knew that Elizabeth never said anything she didn't mean and that she believed actions spoke louder than words. Because of that, she didn't say that precious trio of words anywhere near as often as he did, but he had no doubt about how she felt. He still felt some vestige of the guilt he had felt at ever having faltered in what he believed about her feelings towards him. She loved him and only him. That was the way it always had been and always would be. Hadn't he always known that to some degree? _Would things have worked out differently for us had I not been so stubborn?_

Elizabeth's breathing slowed and the tension flowed from her body. Will continued to hold her for several more minutes, before carefully slipping out from under her and gently lowering her head to the sand. She stirred briefly and moved her own hands to where she could rest her cheek on them in pillow- like fashion.

It was fully dark by now, but Will could still see quite clearly. If he could still walk, talk, breath, feel, or _whatever_ without a heart, then it wasn't that much of a stretch to accept that he would perhaps undergo other physical changes. Improved night vision would be a logical thing to have, given the duties he would now be responsible for. It wasn't like people would be so kind as to only drown during daylight hours. However, he was afraid – _very _afraid. What other changes would he experience? Would they be permanent or would he revert back to his mortal self once he completed his task and returned to Elizabeth? And what of his heart? Was there a way to return it to its rightful place, or would it forever remain inside the Dead Man's Chest?

Will banished his concerns from his mind, busied himself neatly stacking the wood they had collected, and starting a small fire using the tinder box he always carried in his pocket – once a blacksmith, always a blacksmith… He might have been able to function quite ably in the dark, but Elizabeth could not. He gathered up both pairs of abandoned boots and lined them up near the stone alcove where they planned to spend the night. The two bundles that had been in the long boat were dragged to the fire in preparation for examination of their contents. There really wasn't much that he could do at the moment. He supposed he could go look for fresh water or food, but he could not bring himself to leave Elizabeth. What if she woke up while he was gone? He had promised her he would be there when she woke up, and be there he would. He looked over to where she slept and, as always, marveled at how young she looked, how beautiful she was, and the fact that she was, against all odds, his wife.

He turned away, took a few steps, sat down cross legged beside the fire and stared into the flames. Fire was something he understood. It was ­- _had been_ - an essential tool of his trade. Now the heat from the blaze made his exposed skin feel warm and tight – almost like there wasn't enough of it to cover his bones. It was a sensation he hadn't experienced in quite some time – not since a few days before Beckett and the Company came to Port Royal. It made him realize exactly how much he missed his old life. Gone were the days when his greatest worry had been how to support a wife and possibly children on the pittance he earned from his labors, only to have those worries be replaced by something far more terrifying. How would he be able to leave Elizabeth behind, not knowing what would become of her? Given the choice, he would go right back to being a blacksmith. He missed the work. The sound of his tools striking the red hot iron on the anvil; the smell of the molten iron, the hiss of the beaten metal when he plunged it into the water to temper it; watching something useful and durable take shape from what had previously been a nondescript chunk of rock and knowing that his skill was what made that possible…

Will opted to open the larger of the two parcels first. There was no way to tell who had packed it, nor any way to guess what it contained. The rough burlap sack had been used hard and had the holes to show for it. It was covered with dark stains that Will thought best not to contemplate for too long. The neck was tied with a length of hemp line – too long to toss away and yet too short to be readily useful. Will smirked as he considered the neatly tied bowline knot holding the bag closed and remembered long hours aboard one ship or another practicing tying, untying and retying various knots. He had known them all when he was younger, but until Jack had come into his life he'd had little use for many of them. Jack had been adamant about Will relearning what he had once known. Ship's knots were one of the few things the eccentric Pirate Lord of the Caribbean was meticulous about – unlike his sense of personal hygiene. Jack had to have tied this particular one - it was picture perfect.

The rope slipped easily from the bag as soon as Will tugged at it, revealing its hidden contents. . Upon Will's first, cursory examination, the bag appeared to contain random utensils and foodstuffs - the degree of usefulness of anything inside was yet to be determined. Will gingerly stuck his hand into the bag and started removing things. First, came a packet of the ubiquitous hard tack that he had come to dread, followed by several strips of dried meat – although what kind of meat was another thing Will preferred to not contemplate too much. His hand next closed over something smooth, roundish and more firm than soft. He laughed quietly, extracting the first of a dozen shiny, green apples – a gift, no doubt, from the cantankerous Captain Barbossa. Further inspection revealed a familiar onion shaped bottle of rum, what appeared to be a bottle of wine, but may very well also have been rum, two pewter goblets, a plain, ordinary compass (much to his relief), another tinder box, a knife much like the one Bootstrap had given him (_for Elizabeth, perhaps?)_, and a small leather bag containing a meager collection of coins - mostly silver with a few gold ones scattered amongst them.

Will spread the bag on the sand a safe distance from the fire and arranged the curious assortment on it, before turning his attention to the second parcel. This one had not been assembled with quite the haste of the first – its wrapping attested to that. The mostly square package had been neatly covered with oilcloth and then tied with a narrow leather cord, much like the leather on Will's own necklace. Again, the knot was tied with Jack's trademark precision and skill – only this time some clumsy attempt had been made at a bow, giving the whole thing a look more like a gift than another bundle of supplies. As with the first parcel, the bow and knot came apart easily with a single tug of the proper cord. Will carefully and curiously pulled back the edges of the cloth to see what was inside.

The folded fabric inside was dark – very dark. Even turning it to the light could not help Will to discern if it was black or intensely dark green, perhaps even blue. He touched it lightly with his fingers in an attempt to decide exactly what it was. The material had that odd simultaneously soft and rough texture of silk. It felt as if it were both incredibly fragile and durable all at the same time. Peeking from under one edge was the tiniest strip of ivory colored paper. Will slipped it from its hiding place. It wasn't just a sheet of paper, but an elegant parchment envelope – and it was addressed to Elizabeth Turner. That was it – just Elizabeth Turner. No Mrs., no Captain, no other title, no anything. Will smiled as he traced his fingers over the name – _his_ name, now hers too - before turning the envelope over. He immediately noticed that the wax holding it shut lacked a seal. There was no way of determining who had written the note without opening it. Had Elizabeth not been so tired, he might have asked her to open it right away for no reason other than to slake his own curiosity. _Mr. Gibbs dropped this bundle into the longboat, but he doesn't seem the type to use sealing wax. Could it be from Jack? Barbossa maybe? No one else aboard the _Pearl _can read or write, can they?_

Will carefully rewrapped the package, retied the cord, and set it aside, but not before, once more, tracing one finger tenderly over the name on the envelope. Elizabeth _Turner _– he hadn't exactly had time to stop and consider that she would share his name now, just like she had always shared his hopes and dreams, now she would share his fate and destiny, but not his life. The realization that she faced a far more difficult road than he did stung him again - but what could he do? He was confident that he knew her well enough to know her answer if he offered her freedom – that she had already made her choice and whatever they were to face, it would be together, even if by _together _she really meant apart.

He leaned against a nearby rock and continued to alternately watch the flames and Elizabeth – hoping that she would soon show even the most minute sign of waking up. They had so much left to talk about and so little time to spend together. If just waiting an hour or so for her to wake up from a nap was this tedious, how was he going to survive ten years? He pulled his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on them, as he continued to stare at the flames, and contemplated the number of times his life had completely switched courses. He also weighed his intense desire that there would be at least one more major change in store for him – a change that would take a decade to exact.

Elizabeth woke with a start – uncertain of her surroundings and frightened, as the memories of what had transpired the past few days came flooding back. She remembered Will dying in her arms and yet she could see him seated not more than a few yards away, in the ever familiar pose he had struck whenever something was bothering him and he needed to think. She propped herself up on one arm and quietly watched him for a few moments – admiring how the firelight illuminated his chiseled features, how the fabric of his shirt strained across his muscular back and shoulders, and how peaceful he looked.

She stood up and brushed the sand from her clothing as best she could – blanket or not, it was impossible to keep it from infiltrating everything. Will still had not looked up as she slowly walked towards him. She knew she wanted to – _needed _to say something to him, but had no idea what. Although they were quite adept at reading each other's actions and understanding each other's unspoken wishes, desires and feelings, there_ were_ times that words were required. But they escaped her now that she needed them the most.

Will sensed her movement rather than heard her – it had always been like that for them. It was one of the things he feared they might lose during his absence, but along with everything else, he again pushed his concerns aside. He lifted his chin from his knees and turned his head towards Elizabeth. A smile he could not have contained had he tried spread across his face, to be matched with an equally joyous one on hers. Elizabeth continued her slow approach towards where Will still sat motionless by the fire. Upon reaching him, she held out her hand in invitation. Neither one of them spoke, but kept their eyes locked on each other. Will took her hand in his and stood up, noting as he did how rough it was. _When did that happen? Has it really been so long since we just held hands that I haven't noticed the change?_

"Walk with me," she said softly, beginning to back away from the fire.

"It's dark," Will replied, twining his fingers among hers and followed her without hesitation.

"There's a full moon. We won't go so far that we can't see the fire. If you get scared, I can protect you."

Will laughed. "Will you now?"

"I'm the Pirate King, remember? I have hundreds, nay, _thousands_ of pirates at my beck and call. They shall unerringly do my bidding no matter what I ask," she declared – her playful mood evident in her tone.

"How sure are you of that? I've heard tell that pirates are a rather unreliable lot. And who will protect me from your wrath?"

"I don't think it's my _wrath_ you need to be concerned with," she teasingly chided him.

"And exactly what do I need to be concerned with?"

"I haven't actually decided that yet. It's one of my rights as duly elected sovereign of the Brethren Court," she said airily, dismissing mob of imaginary retainers with her free hand.

Will laughed again. "As you wish, your Majesty. _Your_ wish is _my_ command. That is what I'm supposed to say, isn't it?"

"I suppose it will do – provided I don't change my mind, which again, _is _my right."

"I've missed this," Will said, quietly, lifting her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it.

"Missed what? Having me tell you what to do? Very well, I shall endeavor to grant your wish." Elizabeth made no effort to lower her hand, but kept her eyes focused on Will's mouth, as she unconsciously licked her own lips.

"No. I've missed joking with you like this, spending time with you, talking to you." He wanted very much to kiss her, but something held him back – it wasn't quite right, not now, not yet.

"I missed you too. I never meant to push you away," she said, her voice suddenly turning serious.

Will put one finger of his free hand against his lips. "Shh, we agreed. It was nothing but a misunderstanding. It's over now and we don't need to dwell on it, but perhaps resolve to not let it to happen again."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement, then smiled at her husband again. "I've always wanted to do this with you."

"Be stranded on an island? Whatever for?" Elizabeth could tell he was teasing, but Will managed to make himself sound deadly serious.

"Not that part. Although I _am _known for being able to build quite the signal fire," she pronounced airily.

"Going for a walk? We've done that before." Will was beginning to wonder where this conversation, along with their path, was leading as they got further and further away from their camp.

"Not on the beach, in the moonlight, we haven't. Father would never have allowed such a thing – no matter how many chaperones we had. I don't think he quite trusted you in that respect," she said coyly.

"I don't think I was the one he needed to worry about."

"No," she answered, sidling up closer to him, "but can you imagine his reaction had anyone pointed that out to him?"

"I think I wouldn't have been allowed to see you until after the wedding- and maybe not even then."

"He could be a bit overprotective at times."

"But he loved you. That's what matters the most."

"He weathered quite a bit of criticism for overindulging me too."

"Am I expected to do the same?" Will asked only halfway joking.

"No, I think that's more of a fathers and daughters dynamic. Maybe one day you'll understand what that means." Elizabeth said with a dramatic sigh, casting a quick glance over to see what, if any, reaction Will might have to her statement. But had either missed what she was implying or had chosen to ignore her. "I'm not that same spoiled girl I was then."

"No. You're the Pirate King."

"I'm being serious, Will," she mock pouted, turning to face him.

"I apologize. And you're right, you're not the same. He was proud of you and would be prouder still to see you now."

"Would he?" she asked, taking Will's other hand and started taking steps backwards towards the water and the outgoing tide. "I miss him."

"I know you do. I still miss my mother." Will kept following Elizabeth, leading him towards a destination that only she knew.

"You'll still have your father on the ship won't you? Or will he choose to move on. _Can _he move on?"

Will shrugged his shoulders. "He said he would stay. I honestly hardly know him and I never once imagined that getting to know him would be under these circumstances."

"But you'll have someone, right?" They had reached the water now. Elizabeth kept Will's hands enclosed in hers, but stepped up as close to him as possible.

"I suppose. What are you getting at?" She was so close now that Will could feel the warmth of her body and smell the salt water that had dried in her hair. His mind was starting to wander in a completely different direction.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes briefly at Will, looking him straight in the face, but not saying anything. Her mind, however, was awhirl. How could he _not _understand what she was getting at? She knew she was being vague – _very _vague, but she had lost quite a bit of her boldness somewhere along the way. She couldn't bring herself to point outright to him that they _were _married now, it _was _supposed to be their wedding night and he _would _be leaving her before this time tomorrow. A short lived blaze of panic coursed through her as she considered that he might tell her they still had to wait. _Surely not? _She felt her cheeks burn, wondering if the problem wasn't so much that he wouldn't as he couldn't. If something didn't change soon, she was just going to have to swallow her pride and start making demands. An involuntary giggle escaped her lips, as she imagined proclaiming _that _as one of her rights as Pirate King.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just a random thought," she said, dropping Will's hands and starting to back away from him slowly. Will started to follow, but she quickly put up a hand to stop him – smiling seductively at him in the moonlight as she did so. "Do you think my father would approve that we're properly married now?"

"I'm not so sure he would agree with the _properly_ part. I would imagine he would most likely be appalled at the when, where and how of it." Will continued to curiously watch his wife's slow, backwards progress away from him, trying to concentrate on the conversation and not other, more intriguing avenues of thought.

"But we're _legally_ married, are we not?" More steps further away. Smile still in place.

"Yet another good question. A ship's captain is as good as a priest given the circumstances, but I'm not sure of the ruling on a formerly cursed, undead, resurrected, pirate captain as the one in charge. Besides, it's not like he did much of anything anyway." The words were coming out of his mouth, but Will was far more interested in watching the gentle sway of Elizabeth's hips as she continued her odd journey in reverse. His hands literally ached to touch her.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes in false annoyance. "Did we meet _any_ of the requirements set forth to qualify us for wedded bliss?"

"_Eagerly_."

"Pardon?"

"I said 'eagerly.' I married you eagerly. As for the other, who is there to argue the point? We were on a ship; there was certainly no shortage of captains; there were witnesses – even if we did send more than a few on to their greater reward, or _not_, as the case may be." Will stopped to think for a second. "I suppose that means I would have to say that yes, we are a rightfully and legally husband and wife." Will noticed that Elizabeth stopped moving as he spoke, and that her expression changed somehow. Was it possible for her to appear more mischievous than she did already?

"And that," she said using her finger to make a zig zag gesture in the general direction of his scar, "_that _has no bearing on things?"

Will self consciously touched the wound on his chest. "No, should it?"

"I'm your wife, not your widow?" She stood with her arms akimbo.

"Yes," Will was beginning to falter, his mind wandering between worry and confusion.

"That settles it then," Elizabeth proclaimed, her voice suddenly strong and clear.

"Settles what? I'm afraid you have me at a loss." Confusion was rapidly overtaking worry, but still floundered far behind where his mind had been previously wandering.

"I've waited for you for what feels like forever. I'm not waiting any longer." The words had no sooner left her mouth than she started to run diagonally away from the water back towards the camp.


	3. Sharing A Name

Will stood dumbfounded for a split second, watching her first few steps he quickly tried to process both what Elizabeth had _said _and what she had _meant_ by it. Before she had begun her sprint back towards their camp, she had managed to back away from him just far enough that the fastest and most efficient way of catching her now would be to move perpendicular to her path. His long legs allowed him to cover the ground between them in just a few short steps. For one brief moment, he considered tackling her, but checked himself when he remembered they were both still wearing their swords – that particular plan would be no good. Instead he leaned forward, reached out his arms, snagged her by the waist and spun her around.

Elizabeth doubled over at the moment of contact and reached one hand out to stop her fall, but she need not have bothered. Will had a firm grip on her. She began to laugh as she straightened up, turned around and threw her arms around his neck.

"You can't get away from me that easily," he too, laughed, pulling her in close. He could feel her heart beating rapidly in her chest and wondered if his was doing the same, locked safely in the Chest. He was sure it would be if it was still located in his own chest.

"Who said I was trying to get away?" she replied breathlessly, staring into his eyes. "I was merely trying to get your attention."

"Oh, is that all," he whispered, sliding one hand up her back to her neck and leaning in to kiss her – slowly, softly, but quite passionately.

Elizabeth tightened her hold. She couldn't remember the last time they had been afforded the opportunity to kiss each other like this—without fear of reprimand for inappropriate behavior, someone trying to kill one or both of them, or just a lack of privacy. She had almost, but not quite, forgotten what he tasted like. A low moan escaped her throat as the intensity increased and other long suppressed and otherwise unfamiliar desires began to surface. She slowly began to ease her hands down Will's chest, taking care to not touch the horrifying gash on his chest, on her way towards his waist.

Will pulled back from their kiss, lazily became aware of Elizabeth clumsily fumbling with...what?

"Elizabeth," he groaned. "What are you doing?"

"I want to get rid of this accursed sword." Her words came out haltingly, as if she were out of breath.

Will lean closer to touch his forehead to hers. "Elizabeth," he swallowed hard before continuing. "That belt is _not _my sword belt."

"Isn't it?" she answered innocently. "How could I have made such a mistake?" She did not, however, make any motion to amend her actions, but instead kissed the tip of her husband's nose.

"Here, allow me," Will said, cautiously guiding her hands to the hilt of the sword she suddenly seemed so interested in. He leaned back suddenly as she unsheathed it with the grace and agility of any battle hardened warrior – she probably wouldn't have misjudged the distance and hurt him, but at this point it was probably in their best interest to err on the side of caution.

Elizabeth stood for a moment, rocking the blade back and forth, watching the moonlight glint off the polished steel. Then she did something Will would never have anticipated – she took one step back and with all the strength she could muster, impaled the blade deep into the sand.

"What was that for?" Will sounded perplexed as he gazed at the sword.

"We don't need them – not tonight. I don't want any reminders of what we've been through. I just want it to be you and me, and…." Her voice trailed off as she offered him a shy smile.

"In that case," he replied, also slipping her blade from its scabbard and planting it in the ground next to his own.

The lovers watched, as the weight of the sword in the loose sand allowed both swords to tilt from their upright positions, leaving the hilts locked together and the blades crossed.

"And now, Mrs. Turner, I think there is someplace we would rather be," Will announced, scooping up his new bride in his arms and preparing to carry her back to their makeshift camp and whatever lay ahead.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and inhaled sharply the moment Will touched her. She kept them tightly closed as he lifted her in his arms and began to carry her to their camp site. She buried her face in the nape of his neck as soon as he picked her up; starting slightly as the acrid tang of spent gunpowder mixed with the coppery scent of blood stung her nostrils. She felt tears prick at her eyes at the realization that the blood was Will's own—whether from the lethal sword wound inflicted by Davy Jones or from horrifying gash on his chest where Bootstrap had removed his heart, she did not know, nor did she want to. All that mattered was that he was here with her now, he was alive, and they were finally, after so many obstacles, husband and wife. There had been a time when she had nearly given up all hope of that ever happening—but it _had_ happened, and before too much longer she would finally know what it meant to give herself to him, completely and without restraint. She nestled in closer and began to cover his neck, chin and cheek with feather light kisses. A small thrill of joy coursed through her body when Will sighed contentedly and angled his head to grant her easier access.

Will gently set Elizabeth on her feet when they reached the glowing embers of the fire. His hands drifted over the curves of his wife's body to encircle her waist. Elizabeth draped her arms around her husband's neck and touched her forehead to his. The young couple remained where they were for several minutes, listening to the sound of each other's restful breathing, soaking up the warmth of each other's bodies, and gathering the courage they would need to go on. Will slanted in to meet his wife's lips in a soft kiss. Elizabeth responded in kind, parting her 

own lips in invitation. What followed was a kiss of such heart-felt passion and heated intensity that it made the one Elizabeth had used to trick Jack seem chaste by comparison.

Will's long, graceful fingers shifted to the lacings at her back which secured the belt, holding the black leather tassets of her armor, around her waist. He struggled in vain to loosen the water soaked cords that had contracted and tightened the protective garment. Elizabeth pressed herself up against him impatiently, expectantly waiting to be relieved of the awkwardly heavy and unwanted accessory. Will groaned in frustration at his inability to release even a single shred of the stubborn binding from its place. Elizabeth giggled nervously, releasing her husband from her embrace and slowly turning around.

"Perhaps you would make more progress if I didn't distract you quite so much?" Her voice had a breathless quality to it that betrayed both the intense desire she felt for her husband and her impatience at his lack of progress in relieving her of her constrictive apparel.

Will's only response was a frustrated groan.

Elizabeth inquisitively eyed the eclectic assortment of items spread out on the sand as Will continued, unsuccessfully, to free her from her excess of clothing.

"Is that…? The sight of one particular object sent a jolt of icy, cold fear through her limbs and momentarily stole her voice.

Will glanced up at to see where she was looking and realized immediately what had caused her alarm, for it had elicited the same reaction from him earlier.

"No," he answered softly. "It's just a plain, ordinary compass. I checked."

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. "I couldn't imagine why he would burden us with _his_ compass, but what motivates his choices never cease to amaze and confound me."

Will kissed the back of her head. "I know where it would point if I held it right now."

"And where would that be?" Elizabeth said enticingly.

"The nearest knife."

Elizabeth turned her head to look at him for a moment. He was completely and totally serious. Her face reflected both concern and worry for his sanity before it began to sink in how a knife might lead to what he wanted most – then she began to laugh. The gleeful sound floated through the night air. "I can assure you I would _not _be the least distressed if you literally or figuratively severed my ties to this." She gestured to the elaborately embroidered battle dress she still wore, albeit sans footwear.

"As you wish," he said, drawing his knife from his belt.

The jumbled mass of leather had barely touched the ground, before Elizabeth turned and offered both of her wrists to Will, to cut loose the leather lacing on the gauntlets she also wore. Those too were quickly discarded and forgotten. What they had planned for this night was all about trust and love. Neither wanted anything concerning conflict and hate to interfere or to remind them of what they had been through already.

Elizabeth stood before her husband – the golden threads of her exquisitely embellished coat reflecting the light. She bit her lip nervously in a sudden fit of insecurity, for she was at a total loss as to what to do next.

Will smiled faintly back at her, himself not sure of what the next move should be or who should make it. "You have a gift – a wedding gift," he finally remarked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"_From_?" Elizabeth was clearly confused by this. She hadn't known they were going to marry when they did. How could she possibly have a wedding gift?

Will shook his head, stepping around her to the haphazardly rewrapped bundle he had inspected earlier, and picked it up. "The envelope inside is addressed to you." He held out the package in the palms of his hands, graciously presenting it to her. Elizabeth brushed past him, accepted his offering, and sat by the fire. She rested the package in her lap, looking up at Will and reaching out her hand in invitation for him to sit with her. Will took her hand in his and gallantly kissed the back of it before taking a seat next to her. Elizabeth leaned into him, as he wrapped one strong arm around her shoulders.

She ran her fingers over the slick material before she undid the careless knot Will had used to retie the leather cord holding the package together. The edges of the cloth parted to reveal the elegant ivory envelope addressed to Elizabeth Turner. She traced her fingers over the name much as Will had done earlier.

"That's who I am now, isn't it?" She spoke quietly, almost reverently.

"Only if you want to be."

"It's all I've ever _really_ wanted." She turned her face towards her husband. Her eyes glittered in the moonlight, reflecting her happiness at her revelation.

Will kissed her tenderly before touching his forehead to hers. "Then I am most honored to have you share my name."

"Elizabeth Turner. It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" Elizabeth teased.

"Did you think the same the first time you tried it on for size?" Will's smile shone in his own eyes as he stared into Elizabeth's.

Elizabeth giggled. "Mmm, I think is sounds much better with Mrs. in front of it than it ever did with Miss."

"Agreed." His eyes twinkled mischievously, reflecting the firelight. "It suits you." He planted a kiss on her nose. "Now read your letter. I'm curious who it's from."

"Considering the dearth of people aboard the _Pearl_ who can read or write, I would say our choices are limited," she commented, returning her attention to the letter. She briefly examined the misshapen lump of red sealing wax on the back before she slid her thumb underneath it to free the letter inside. The paper inside matched the envelope – a detail that struck Elizabeth as unusual, to say the least. She couldn't imagine Jack taking the time to write anyone a letter, much less going to the trouble of having a supply of obviously expensive stationary on board. No, any written communication from Jack was far more likely to be written on any random scrap of remotely paper-like material he could locate. On the other hand, she could easily picture Captain Barbossa having the appropriate materials close at hand for official correspondence, but surely he would have imprinted the wax with his seal. It would be so like him to be as formal about such matters, despite his history as a ruthless pirate captain. Elizabeth held the folded sheet of parchment between her and Will, continuing to delay reading the unexpected message. Considering the events of the last few hours, she was far more afraid that it contained information she did not want than she was hopeful that it was something joyful.

Elizabeth laid her head on Will's shoulder as they both leaned back against the rocks. She slowly and cautiously unfolded the letter, quickly scanning it in search of the author. There was no need for her to look for a signature—the ornate penmanship identified him at once—Mr. Gibbs. She took a deep breath and began to read aloud.

_24 May, 1763_

_Dear Miss Elizabeth, _

_Or perhaps more appropriately, Dear Mrs. Turner? Please forgive the haste with which this is written. As you are certainly aware, our circumstances have been altered drastically in the past few hours, and I am afraid it is now time for us to once again go our separate ways. Although I was remiss in bidding you a proper farewell after the adventures of Isla de Muerta, I was confident that you would eventually be returned to Port Royal and placed in the care of either your loving father, the capable Commodore Norrington, or even young Mr. Turner. It causes me great sorrow and regret to realize that such will not be the case in this instance. It matters not that you are now the Pirate Lord of Singapore, the King of the Brethren Court, a ship's captain in your own right, and a married woman—it distresses me to know that you are to be left behind to make your way on your own on the very day you should have been celebrating your most special occasion. _

_On the subject of said event, I realize that I am most fortunate in that I was present both the day you met the boy who would become your husband and they day you and he were wed. Captain Barbossa could perhaps claim the same distinction, but I feel I am within my right to discount any declaration he may choose to make as he is the one who left William to the depths. That _

_being said, I feel it is not too bold of me to comment on the most unfortunate trial that lies before you and William. _

_I do not know the conditions by which your father granted permission for you to pursue your feelings for William, nor how it came about that you gained his approval for your marriage, but I would surmise that he only begrudgingly permitted such a thing, in hope that it was nothing more than a childish whim born of extreme circumstance. Nevertheless, I am confident that you will heed my words in the manner in which they are intended, for I feel that your own father would tell you the same. _

_You have chosen well. It is impossible to imagine that any other man exists that could show the same care and devotion that Turner does for you; and yet, at the same time understand, that you are indeed a most powerful adversary on your own. It is tragic that such a perfectly suited young couple must be punished the way that you two will be, but know that if it were not for your husband's sacrifice, we would all be dead. I realize that is perhaps small consolation as you consider your impending separation, but know that we are, and always will be, eternally grateful._

_I do regret that a young lady of your quality was denied the niceties traditionally associated with a proper wedding. Because of this, I hope you will accept this gift as a small consolation for what you deserved. I do not know how this particular garment came to be aboard the _Pearl_, but I am quite sure its former occupant would also wish you much joy in the future. _

_Your friend, _

_Joshamee Gibbs_

Elizabeth's normally steady voice began to break as she neared the end of the letter. She hated to admit it, but she would miss the camaraderie she had shared with the former member of the Royal Navy turned pirate. She had nearly forgotten his presence that fateful day, when they had come upon the burning hulk that had been Will's ship, and that Mr. Gibbs had been instrumental in pulling Will from the water. The irony that it was Barbossa whose actions had both brought them together that hot, but dreary summer day, and officiated their wedding was not lost on her.

"Have you ever wondered exactly how it is that there is so much women's clothing aboard the _Black Pearl?"_ Will pondered, watching Elizabeth run her fingertips lightly over the dark fabric.

Elizabeth chuckled softly, withdrawing the garment from its wrapping. "There are some things in this world where it is perhaps better to not think about it too much." Her eyes widened as the dress, such that it was, came free. Who ever had made it certainly had not believed in wasting fabric, as there wasn't much to it. The low cut neckline was of no concern. Did not most of the dresses she had left behind in Port Royal offer a similar presentation of her charms, so to speak? Even the fact that it was sleeveless was not that big of a concern. It was considered quite improper to expose one's elbows, but in Elizabeth's opinion, when one contemplated how hot it 

could be in the Caribbean, wouldn't the absence of sleeves make more sense? Besides, it wasn't as if she had reservations about anyone seeing her arms. No, what had caught her off guard were the numerous thigh-high slits in the skirt that divided it into multiple panels, resulting in a dress that left little to the imagination. Showing her legs made her distinctly uncomfortable, despite having done so during that little episode in Singapore. She might have had a different outlook on the rules of propriety, but she did still have a well developed sense of modesty.

Will, on the other hand, had a quite different opinion on the matter. He felt a flush of heat course through his body at the thought of Elizabeth wearing the dress. The image of himself removing it from her slender body did nothing to help matters.

"Why—" he began, but stopped, his voice failing him momentarily, "Why don't you try it on?"

Elizabeth turned her head towards him and smiled.

"Would you like that?" She angled her head in to lightly kiss his lips.

"Very much so." He tried to kiss her back, but she pulled away.

"Then you'll have to do something for me too." She stole another kiss, but quickly pulled back out of his reach again.

"Anything." He reached up and traced the curve of her cheek with his fingers. "Everything. I'll always promise you that." He raised one eyebrow suggestively, leaning towards her in yet another failed attempt to capture her lips.

"Put the Chest somewhere that I don't have to see it tonight. All I want to see is you." She put so much effort into keeping her voice calm and steady that her request was spoken virtually without emotion.

Will sat up straight. This was not exactly what he had expected to hear. It did, and quite rightly so, have the same fundamental effect on his current state as a good dousing with cold water would have. He had, in his eagerness to enjoy his wife's charms, entirely forgotten about the Chest that now contained his heart. _Will it always be this easy to banish it from my thoughts? _He looked at Elizabeth and blinked several times, before her request registered. He nodded his head solemnly, regaining his feet and offering a hand to Elizabeth, to help her up.

Elizabeth accepted the proffered hand, while she used her free hand to dust some of the fine white sand from her clothes. Will took advantage of her momentary distraction to pull her in tight. He ducked his head as if to kiss her. Elizabeth responded in kind, but at the last second, just as their lips were about to meet, he pulled away, leaving Elizabeth with nothing but a sigh of frustration. Will laughed lightly, grinning at her wickedly, and stroking her unbound hair.

"Go. I'll be anxiously awaiting your return."


	4. Promises Kept

_Promises Kept_

Elizabeth turned from her husband and headed towards the rocks. She cast him one final look and smiled, just before she stepped around them and out of view.

Will looked forlornly at the Chest nestled in the sand, and wondered how such a fine example of craftsmanship could become such a source of unparalled horror. He cautiously hefted the box by its ornate handles, once again surprised by how light it was. He turned a slow circle, surveying the surrounding landscape, searching for a place that would be both secure and out of sight, or at least, out of Elizabeth's sight. For that matter, he wouldn't exactly complain about it being out of his sight either, even though he was still a bit leery of allowing the accursed casket to be too far away from him—and rightly so. A short distance from where he stood was a chest high boulder, weather worn, with a roughly level surface that seemed to be a likely resting place. He could put it there, cover it with his coat, and Elizabeth would be none the wiser. He would still be able to see its now familiar outline in the darkness while she would think it no more than any other chunk of rock that littered the area. Once that rather troublesome task was accomplished, he returned to the campsite to wait – and worry.

Elizabeth spread Mr. Gibb's gift out on a nearby rock and then wiped her sweaty palms nervously on her coat. She had waited for this moment for nearly half of her life, and had freely told anyone who would listen how ready she was to be married, but the truth was that now that she and Will were married, she found herself both anxious and terrified about what should – _would_ happen next. She took a deep breath and began to slowly undo the fastenings on her coat. Her fingers would not cooperate as she fumbled with the closures. Eventually, she managed to ungracefully undo the last of them. It did not escape her attention that something as simple as removing the richly embroidered coat relieved her of some of the physical and emotional burden she had been carrying. While she had quickly adapted to wearing the elaborate ensemble, the truth was it was both unbearably hot _and_ extremely heavy—not to mention that it was now irreparably stained by both blood and water. And although it had served as her wedding attire, it also represented a war still to fight, a battle they had won, and a potentially devastating reversal of fortune for her and at what cost? Beautiful though it may be, it would never be something she cherished.

Will pace impatiently and nervously by the fire. He knew better than to rush Elizabeth, but he was anxious for her return. If for nothing else than it made him nervous for her not to be where he could see her. They had spent too many months not talking and had years of forced separation ahead of them. He did not want to waste a single second of the time they had left together. Will stole a glimpse at the now rumpled blanket where Elizabeth had slept earlier. He unconsciously chewed on his lower lip as he contemplated straightening out the blanket and perhaps even shaking the sand from it. If he were honest with himself he would admit that _that_ also was making him anxious. No matter how much he wanted Elizabeth; there was still that tiny part of his conscience that questioned his own motivation. Clearly, it would be fairer to her if they had just gone their separate ways – him to the land of the dead where he rightfully belonged while she remained among the living. _Perhaps she would eventually find someone else to build a life with like she truly deserves. _

He shook his head, let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and crossed over to the rock bound alcove, reassuring himself that they had made this choice together and that there was no point in trying to second guess themselves now.

Elizabeth now stood wearing just the loose fitting black trousers and half shift – not much more than a shirt really—that she had worn under the coat. The off white shift was made of material nowhere near as fine as what she had been accustomed to in her former life as the spoiled only child of Jamaica's governor, but it was much nicer than some of what she had had to make do with in the past several months. The finery and comforts that formed such an integral part of her childhood and early adulthood were not much more than a fading memory now. Her current circumstances offered little hope that that would change anytime in the near future. There had been a time when the mere thought of such a loss would have distressed her greatly, but it paled in comparison to her current reality.

She was feeling much less fidgety now as she slowly unlaced and untucked the shift and pulled it over her head. The cool night breeze felt pleasant on her skin as she quickly dropped the shift into the sand, grabbed the dress and put it on. She looked down at her legs, still encased in the voluminous trousers, and wrinkled her nose and giggled nervously at how silly she looked with the panels of her dress spread over the excess fabric. _This will never do_.

Will flapped the blanket vigorously several times to rid it of the ubiquitous grains of sand that had already collected in the creases. He then draped the blanket over a nearby rock and began to meticulously smooth the ground underneath where the blanket had been; taking care to remove any pebbles or other debris he came across. He was well aware that his actions were born more of his need to distract himself than for any concern for their comfort. The accommodations, such as they were, were infinitely better than many of the places they had slept over the course of the past year – or at least where he had slept. Elizabeth had always been afforded what little privacy was available and therefore had an improvised cabin of sorts. _I wonder if she knows that I slept outside her door?_

When he was satisfied with his work, Will carefully smoothed the blanket's rough material over the now—level sand and sat down at its edge with his knees pulled up to his chest. He rested his chin in his hands and thought about how different this was from how he had imagined this night would be. It shouldn't matter so long as he and Elizabeth were together, but it did. _She deserves better than this. Does she feel the same? _Turning his head towards the direction Elizabeth had taken, stared into the darkness in a fruitless attempt to will her immediate return.

Elizabeth's hands began to tremble again as she worked at the buckle on the narrow belt that secured her breeches. She might have little to no use for the rules of propriety, but a deep sense of modesty had been ingrained into her personality almost from birth. It had unnerved her to expose her legs to the other pirates, and even Will, when they had been in Singapore – or at least it had until the fighting had started. Then she had been given little time to think of anything other than her own survival – and Will's. _Always_ Will's. He was her reason for living and she regretted the time together they had wasted when they had lost their way.

The stiff leather finally slid free of the buckle. Elizabeth eased the waist of her breeches over her hips and slowly stepped out of them—these too she left lying in the sand. This time when she looked down she could not help but laugh. The undergarments she had been given to wear came almost to her knees – far lower than the upper range of the splits in the skirt of her dress. Somehow appearing before Will dressed like this did not strike her as very conducive towards what she had in mind. She could almost hear his laughter now, but it was either that or resort to the only other obvious solution.

Will had returned to his previous position, resting his head in his hands, when he first heard Elizabeth's bright laughter drift through the night air. He sat bolt upright and again gazed at the point where his wife had disappeared. Surely she would be back soon.

He suddenly, self consciously, felt as though his choice of seats made him appear too eager, but there was no denying it, he _was_ eager. _Hadn't that been a condition of their marriage? _Rejecting what Elizabeth had so freely offered over the course of their engagement had easily been one of the most difficult things he had done. It didn't matter that he realistically had no choice in the matter. The anticipation of one day making love to her had occupied nearly his every waking moment. That had never changed no matter what the circumstances. The realization that that long awaited, and much anticipated, moment was now at hand made his mouth go dry.

The sudden sensation of thirst reminded him of the wine bottle and goblets he had found in one of the bundles. He got back to his feet, brushed himself off – taking care to not shed sand on the blanket—and went to investigate further. Knowing Jack, the bottle could contain most anything, but maybe even he had managed to make one small, but appropriate, contribution to their celebration.

No matter how deeply embedded Elizabeth's sense of modesty was, her sense of practicality always won out. And while patience was a virtue, it never had been for Elizabeth Swann. Becoming Elizabeth Turner hadn't changed anything in that aspect. That left but one solution to her dilemma. Without a second thought, the knee length drawers joined the rest of the clothing in the sand. Elizabeth smoothed the dress over her stomach and hips, fighting furiously to quell her discomfiture over her lack of appropriate foundation garments. She blushed furiously as the thought crossed her mind that she had no real intention of wearing any of it for very long anyway. In a vain attempt to distract herself from her temporary embarrassment, she gathered up the discarded clothing and began to neatly fold it.

Will picked up the wine bottle and held it to the firelight. The nearly opaque glass reflected the light, but did nothing to reveal the secret of what was inside. He could tell it had liquid in it, but exactly what type of liquid was anyone's guess. Considering its source, it may not even be a beverage. He determinedly pried the cork out and sniffed at it cautiously. It smelled like wine, but still, it was always best to err on the side of caution. He stuck a finger in the neck of the bottle and tipped it over and back. He took a hesitant taste of the liquid, in his quest to determine what it could possibly be, and was relieved to find that it was indeed, wine. Red wine at that, a very dark, nearly blood colored red. It was also much sweeter than the harsh, almost bitter wine he had experienced in younger days. And while it could not possibly be anywhere near the quality, nor as costly, as what Elizabeth's father had imported for their wedding, it would certainly do for a toast. Actually, anything would be better than something from Jack's indefatigable rum cache, thought Will, retrieving the pair of pewter goblets and carrying them to their makeshift bed.

Elizabeth removed a small pouch from the inner lining of the coat before she folded it. The tiny cloth bag was dirty, stained and threadbare, but it had served its purpose. She had fiercely guarded both the bag and its contents since the day she fled Port Royal. Elizabeth unwound the scrap of leather cording that held it shut and poured the contents out into her hand. The pendant with the single pearl and the tiny silver horseshoe glinted in the moonlight. The pearl, along with the chain it had been attached to, had been a wedding gift from her father. Elizabeth had immediately recognized it as having belonged to her long deceased mother. According to Weatherby, Josephine Swann had worn it on her own wedding day and had wanted her only daughter to do the same. The chain was long gone; having been traded to an itinerant sailor in exchange for the set of boy's clothing she had worn to facilitate her escape from Lord Beckett, his henchman, Mr. Mercer, and the rest of the East India Trading Company.

The miniature horseshoe had been a gift from Will. Traditionally, it was meant to bring good luck to a new bride if she wore one during the wedding. So she had asked him to make one for her. He had initially made a show of presenting her with a real horseshoe at first, but had gifted her with the intricately worked trinket the night before they were to be married. With the help of her seamstress, she had sewn it into the hem of her dress where it had stayed until her unplanned flight from the place she called home. As for the luck it was supposed to bring…it_ had_ worked, just not in the manner anyone would have expected. She put everything back in the bag, securely retied it, and buried it in the stack of clothes. She knew now what she wanted to do with both of them. All that was left was to make sure it was done.

Will carefully set the goblets and the bottle of wine down at the edge of the blanket and returned to the fire. He was becoming more restless by the minute. He stepped back from the fire, selected an appropriate sized piece of wood from the stack he had made earlier and began to poke at the flames. He admired his handiwork for a few moments, before tossing a few more chunks of wood into the blaze. He looked back in the direction Elizabeth had gone, sighed deeply and looked up at the stars. _I can hardly last ten minutes without her. How can I endure ten years? _

"What do you see?"

Will spun around at the sound of her soft voice and stared at Elizabeth. She stood not more than ten yards from him with her arms at her sides. She smiled at him timidly, but with a subdued sense of wariness in her eyes. Will was struck speechless at the sight of her. The dress, although beautiful, was nothing short of scandalous – or at least it would have been in Port Royal. Will certainly did not mind. His eyes strayed to her legs as the merest whisper of a breeze caused the skirt to flutter and reveal one pale thigh.

Elizabeth dropped her head, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy.

Will crossed to her, took her hands in his and leaned forward to kiss her. Elizabeth drew a deep breath, picking her head up and meeting him part way. With no contact other than their lips, locked in an easy kiss, and their fingers intertwined, the newly minted husband began to back up slowly, leading his new bride to their rustic bridal bower. Elizabeth followed somewhat complacently, as if still unsure that this was really happening.

Will stopped as soon as he felt the edge of the blanket under his feet. Elizabeth was clearly paying more attention to what she was doing than where she was going and collided with the solid mass that was her husband's chest.

Will broke off the kiss with a laugh. "You should watch where you're going."

"I know exactly where I was headed," Elizabeth retorted, grinning up at him and stretching her arms around his neck.

"Is that so?" Will returned her silly grin.

Elizabeth stood on her toes and gave him a quick peck on the lips. She then wrapped the fingers of her left hand under the strap of his baldric, lifted it over his head and tossed it aside. "Being as neither of us have a sword at the moment, I don't think this will be necessary."

"Are there any other unnecessary articles you wish to rid me of?" Will gave her a faint smile while the look in his eyes clearly gave her permission to continue with her current plan of attack.

"Perhaps," she teased, floating her open palms over the finely sculpted muscles of his chest to the wide leather belt she had tried to remove earlier. She looked down, struggling to remove the water soaked leather from the buckle.

Will casually draped his arms over her shoulders and gazed in amusement at her determined expression as she went about the business at hand. Will uttered a startled grunt as she inadvertently tightened the belt with her incessant tugging. He was on the verge of offering to complete the task himself when she finally managed to pull the belt free. It too was tossed away in the same general direction as the baldric.

Elizabeth tilted her face back up to Will's, her fingers skimming over his stomach to the knot in the sash he wore. Will closed his eyes, tilting his head back ever so slightly. Elizabeth smiled to herself as she noticed that his breathing, much like her own, was becoming shallower and more irregular with each passing second. She had long ago learned how to get her way by using her feminine wiles on the unsuspecting male members of the species, but it was a quite different feeling to know you could drive a man to distraction – even more empowering was the realization that she could do that to the one man who could do the same to her….and was.

The sash was unwound in short order and quickly discarded. Will leaned forward and rested his forehead on top of his wife's bowed head as she put her mind to untucking his shirt. He exhaled heavily as Elizabeth slipped her hands underneath the hem and eased them up and over the well muscled planes of his back.

"Will?" Elizabeth jerked her head up to look at him. Her voice reflected her shock as her fingers snapped back from Will's skin, as if she had been burned.

Will gave her a startled look, his brow creased in confusion, the understanding of what she had found, slowly dawning on him.

Elizabeth noticed that Will winced and almost imperceptibly shook his head as soon as she had said his name. She knew he had numerous scars, from the fresh one over his heart to the one on his left palm that matched her own, but she hadn't known about these. They had not been there when he left her in Port Royal. So where had they come from?

"Will?" she questioned him again, this time managing to control the distress in her voice. "Where did you get these? How long have you had them?" She lightly passed her fingertips over them, appalled at the extent of the scars that she still had not seen. A knot formed in her stomach, at the realization that she would have most likely long since known of their origin had it not been for her poorly thought out decision to not confide in Will after the flight from the _Black Pearl _and theKraken.

"Not now. Later, I swear to you, but not now." He hesitated. "I can't. Please?" he begged. He couldn't bring himself to look at her.

Elizabeth dropped her hands to his waist and rested her cheek on his chest. "I'm sorry." Her voice broke slightly. "I didn't know."

"It's all right," he whispered softly, stroking her hair – one arm wrapped tightly around her. "I should have told you."

Elizabeth nodded as her eyes strayed to one side to rest on the wine bottle and goblets resting in the sand. "What are those?" She had a vague memory of seeing them amidst the items scattered around the fire, but hadn't given them much thought.

"I think it might be a gift from Jack," Will replied, releasing Elizabeth and bending to retrieve the bottle and both goblets.

"It's not rum, is it?" Elizabeth sounded disgusted at the thought of being provided with a full bottle, of what she considered to be a most vile drink, as a wedding gift.

Will snorted with laughter. "No, I'm sure it really is wine. I tasted it," he said, passing the goblets to Elizabeth and again beginning to work the cork out of the neck of the bottle. He then poured the translucent, garnet-colored liquid into each goblet, set the bottle securely back in the sand and took one of the goblets from his bride.

Elizabeth reached forward and wrapped her arm around Will's. "I think we're supposed to drink a toast to each other like this although it does seem all together awkward."

"Aren't we supposed to say something?" Will asked. "I want to do this right."

"I think that's somebody else's responsibility. We're not supposed to do anything other than to focus on each other," Elizabeth answered, staring into Will's eyes. "And if that's not the way it is, then it's the way it should be."

"That sounds like an appropriate sentiment given the circumstances."Will stepped in closer still as they both tried to sip the wine from the goblets. The results were sloppy at best, with the dark red liquid sloshing over the sides of the goblets and running down their arms. Both of them began to giggle at the mess they were making.

"Perhaps," Elizabeth said, "the reason people toast with champagne is to make the spills less noticeable?"

"That's as good an explanation as any," Will said, before quietly removing the goblet from Elizabeth's hand. He set both vessels in the sand next to the bottle where they immediately tipped over and drained their contents, leaving what looked remarkably like a blood stain on the formerly pristine sand.

As soon as her hands were free, Elizabeth wrapped her hands around her husband's waist and rested her cheek against his chest, all the while mourning the fact that she couldn't hear the safe, strong sound of his heart beating there. They stood that way for a long moment before Elizabeth began to feather her fingers along Will's sides, pulling the burgundy tunic he wore along with them. She stopped abruptly, pushed back, and flattened out her hands as she felt Will convulse and try to pull away from her. She cocked her head, narrowed her eyes and regarded him curiously, trying to discern what had caused his unanticipated reaction.

"Don't do that," he managed to choke out.

A devilish grin formed on Elizabeth's lips. "Why, Will Turner, you're not ticklish, are you?" She commenced to test her theory in earnest.

Will tried in vain to wriggle away from her, failing though he tried to push her away. Elizabeth was not to be deterred; she pursued her target with intense concentration and began laughing herself at Will's unexpected child-like giggles. Their mutual struggle for control of the situation increased until Will inadvertently got his feet tangled in the disremembered sash and fell forward, taking his wife along with him.

They fell hard. Elizabeth squealed in surprise, landing heavily on top of her. He tried to push himself up, but Elizabeth pulled him back down to her. They both laughed uncontrollably, continuing to tease and tickle each other, wrestling about on the blanket, until they were both quite out of breath.

Will managed to gain control of the situation, managing to grasp Elizabeth's wrists with his hands and pin them to the ground as he rolled her over on her back. He pushed himself up as far as he could without releasing her hands and allowed his head to drop forward, trying to catch his breath. Elizabeth began to squirm beneath him in an attempt to escape, but he kept one powerful thigh firmly compressed on either side of her body to prevent her from regaining control.

"Elizabeth," he groaned, shifting his weight slightly.

Elizabeth smiled knowingly at him, trying to lift her face to his. There was no disguising the source of his current _discomfort_, as it were. Will released her wrists and leaned down to kiss her. Her open mouth met his as she put her hands on either side of his head to push off the green bandana that he now wore. Will broke off the kiss and sat back up, still straddling his wife. He reached down, crossed his arms, pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the side. Elizabeth gazed up at him, reaching out to touch the scar on his chest. Will gently put his hand over hers as she traced the angry red welt that marred his chest.

"Don't," he whispered, noticing the sheen of tears in her deep brown eyes. "It doesn't change anything for us." He bent back down and softly kissed her eyelids. Elizabeth sighed softly as her hands made their way around to his back to softly caress it and the still unseen scars. She could feel the tense muscles start to relax. She smiled to herself as she threw all of her weight from her right shoulder, catching Will off guard and flipping him over on his back. She put her hands triumphantly on her hips, sitting astride her husband and laughing.

"I believe you violated the rules of engagement," he said, but made no attempt to dislodge her.

"I didn't know there were rules for a situation like this." She put one hand on each side of his head as she bent forward, causing the scooped neckline of her dress to gape open.

Will's eyes drifted down from her face to admire certain portions of his wife's anatomy.

"Will Turner! Has no one ever told you that it is impolite, not to mention improper, to peer down a lady's décolletage?" Elizabeth did her best impression of an upper crust accent.

"I'm afraid I don't know that particular word," he responded as he reached up and gently brushed his fingers across one breast.

Elizabeth mockingly rolled her eyes at him. "It means you're looking down my dress."

"Yes, ma'am. I am."

"Shall I have to find someone to defend my honor and instill in you a sense of decency?" She tried to sound demanding, but failed miserably. The teasing quality of her voice was far too strong.

Will relocated his hands to her thighs and began to slide them up past her hips and beyond. "I'm going to take that as nothing but an idle threat what with it coming from a woman not wearing any undergarments at the moment." His voice was rough with desire, his breathing once again becoming shallow.

Elizabeth looked at him seriously, raising her arms over her head so as to assist her husband's undressing of her. She blushed furiously as the dress came off and the warm night air flowed over her bare skin. Her arms twitched reflexively in an effort to cover herself, but Will took her hands and held them still. Elizabeth closed her eyes and kept them tightly shut. No matter how much she had wanted this; there was still the element of awkwardness and embarrassment to overcome. A lifelong habit of modesty wasn't the easiest thing to overcome on a moment's notice.

"Elizabeth. Look at me."

She drew a deep breath and complied with Will's request. She was breathing harder now, in a combination of panic, anticipation, and desire.

Will let go of her hands and grazed his fingers over her body. "You're beautiful."

Elizabeth smiled faintly back at him. She took another deep breath in another vain effort to calm her racing heart. She felt as if every fiber of her body was on fire. Liquid heat flowed in her veins; every inch of her skin was sensitive to the touch. _It's time. _She lowered herself to rest against Will's body, savoring the sensations caused by the friction of their bare skin brushing together.

Will wrapped his arms around her and again took possession of her mouth. Her lips parted immediately. She moaned faintly at the feel of his tongue brushing against hers and the still lingering taste of the wine they had drunk. He tenderly rolled her over onto her back and covered her body with his. Elizabeth was only vaguely aware of his weight bearing down on her, pushing her body into the soft sand. Their kiss deepened, their inquisitive exploration of each other's mouths mimicking the much more intimate act yet to come. Will broke away from her lips and traced a line of fiery, wet kisses down her chin, to her neck and to the curve of her breasts. Elizabeth arched towards him, her breathing deteriorating to not much more than panting. Her fingers clutched at the blanket and dug into the sand, as Will continued his descent to her stomach and beyond.

Elizabeth whimpered helplessly when he rocked back on his heels and stood up. She watched him expectantly as he unfastened his breeches, pushed them over his slim hips and stepped out of them. Elizabeth knew she had been sheltered. She had never before seen a naked man, and had entirely expected to be slightly embarrassed by it, but oddly enough, she wasn't. It seemed entirely natural and right to have Will standing before her like this. There was no doubt that they shared a common goal with equal urgency. Elizabeth reached up a hand to him imploring him to return to her.

Will dropped to his knees and resumed kissing and caressing his wife's body.

"Please. Now," Elizabeth managed to murmur between rasping breathes.

"Anything." He kissed her forehead. "Everything." He kissed the tip of her nose. "Just as I promised," he murmured as their lips met.


	5. Making the Pieces Fit

Will was completely and totally exhausted. No matter how hard he tried, he could not remember the last time he had managed to snatch more than a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep. He could allow himself to drift off to sleep now with little fear of being rudely awakened to fight for his own survival, but instead he was desperately trying to remain awake. His eyelids felt so heavy that he could barely hold them open, and his eyes felt like they were full of sand. Of course, it was entirely possible that they _were_ full of sand. He smiled weakly at the memory of how such a thing could have happened and shifted just enough to allow himself to bury his face in his wife's hair.

Elizabeth, his wife of a few short hours, was sound asleep, nestled safely in his arms. The memory of what it felt like to love her, to have her sleep by his side, and to feel the joy and pride in knowing that she had chosen him above all others might very well have to last him, quite literally, an eternity. Will was well aware that this night could quite easily be the only one they would ever have together, and he wanted to remember every last detail. For that reason alone, he continued to fight the temptation to simply close his eyes and allow slumber to overtake him.

Elizabeth stirred slightly, mumbling incoherently, when Will shifted the arm he had wrapped tightly around her waist to pull her in closer to him. As always, he was struck by how fragile her slight frame appeared to be. Unlike before, he felt an almost overwhelming need to protect her although he was well aware that if there ever was a woman who believed that she did not need the protection of a father or a husband, Elizabeth was it. She was better versed in military strategy, weaponry, negotiations and outright deception than many men. No, she didn't need Will's protection, but she allowed it of her own choice. In an odd sort of way it was her gift to him, and while he would soon have to leave her to her own devices, he would always know that he was the one man allowed inside her emotional defenses.

That same emotional intimacy between them was also the source of the lingering guilt Will felt over ever having doubted that she loved him and him alone. It was virtually inconceivable, even to him who had witnessed first-hand, the extent of the concessions Elizabeth had made in order to forge a relationship with him. Had not she been willing to give up not only her position in society, along with a multitude of other comforts and conveniences, just to be his wife? Will, on the other hand, had given up nothing, and gained nearly everything.

For the first time in his life he never had to worry where his next meal was coming from or even if there would _be _a next meal. He no longer had to make the same barely serviceable, threadbare clothing suffice for both work and those occasions when he was expected to make himself presentable. And while both he and Elizabeth were the topic of much gossip because of it, he had moved significantly up the social ladder because of her. Business at the smithy had certainly improved, if for no other reason than to satisfy the undisguised curiosity of Port Royal's social elite about the man who had stolen the Commodore's fiancée. That curiosity, albeit in a slightly different context, applied to the working class citizens as well. The general consensus among the people that had always considered themselves to be Will's equal now viewed him as something of a champion for their cause, regardless of what said cause may be. No matter how much he tried to downplay his change of fortune, the belief held that if Will could improve his lot in life, then they could too. Will had loathed the attention, but had tolerated it all the same.

It was getting more difficult by the second to stay awake. He sadly recalled the image he and Elizabeth had conjured of their wedding night. By rights, he would most likely have long since drifted off to sleep in her arms, both of them gloriously happy, dreaming of the rest of their lives together, where they would go, what they would do and starting a family of their own.

That stray thought of a family began his worrying anew, but this time along a different track. He had been so caught up in his desire to make love to his wife that he had neglected to consider the possibility that he might, no matter how unlikely, gotten her with child. Had their lives taken the direction they had intended that possibility would have made them both almost deliriously happy, but as circumstances now stood, it had the potential to be utterly devastating for them both. The thought that he would be left to wonder for an entire decade if he had left behind not only his wife, but also their child, was torturous. He pushed the thought away, gently kissed Elizabeth's tangled hair, and finally succumbed to the sleep he so desperately needed.

Elizabeth slowly drifted awake. She had no idea what time it was, but it was still quite dark; the full moon was still shining down on her and Will. There was a cool, salty breeze blowing in off the ocean, and while it was quite warm now, she had gotten chilled earlier in the evening. As a result, she was now wearing Will's shirt – not that it offered much in the way of warmth—but at least it had sleeves, unlike her own dress. As for the rest—the hem was hiked halfway up her thigh – most likely Will's doing, and the deep "v" of the neckline did nothing as far as modesty was concerned. Not that she minded, because for once they were _alone_ – lying out in the open on an apparently deserted beach—but most assuredly alone. A bemused smirk formed on her face as she thought of all the prim, proper, but _nosy _socialites back in Port Royal and how horrified they would be to know she had spent her wedding night in such a fashion. They had been aghast at the notion that she intended to marry a man so far beneath her station. What would they think now, if they knew the where and how of it?

She was lying on her left side, her back pressed against Will, her head settled on his arm using it like a pillow. Her arm was stretched out with her hand resting in his, their fingers intertwined, their scarred palms mirroring each other – scars that had resulted from the actions of Captain Barbossa—scars that had been the first visible thing that bound them to each other. Will had his face nestled in her hair as he had so many times before. She could feel his warm breath on her scalp and neck, and took comfort in it. The even rhythm of his breathing told her he was quite fast asleep. His right arm was draped carelessly across her midsection, in a manner somewhere between protective and possessive, both qualities that pleased her at the moment despite the fact that it prevented her from moving. One long, muscular leg was tangled up with her own.

Had she been able to do so without disturbing him, she would have turned over just to watch him slumber. She had on occasion managed to catch him napping, and while she enjoyed watching him sleep, he had sometimes drifted off when she least wanted him to. After the incident at Isla de Muerta, he had spent such long hours at the forge, often working late into the night just so he could slip away and spend a few short hours with her during the day. She now realized how selfish she had been to expect that of him. Had she been paying attention, she would have realized he was working himself to complete exhaustion just to make her happy. It couldn't have been easy for him to put so much effort into proving himself worthy of her hand in marriage by showing her father that he could provide for her and all the while cater to her every whim. How many times had they managed a few stolen moments alone only to have Will fall asleep holding her in his arms? If she had it to do over, she most certainly would not complain.

It was easy to picture him looking the way he always did when she had been so fortunate as to spend uninterrupted time with him – and only now that he was about to be taken away from her, did she understand how fortunate she had truly been. She remembered how he always looked so peaceful when he slept, with his dark curls unbound and hanging loosely about his broad shoulders, his long, thick eyelashes resting on and nearly blending into to his tanned skin, his face completely relaxed; for once free of all the inner turmoil that was such an intricate part of his personality. She sadly remembered the rare occasions when they had managed to find both the time and means to spend some time alone. Was it even possible to count the many times she had lain with her head on his chest listening to the strong steady sound of his heart beating in his chest, dreaming of a time when she could and _would _do the same every day? Had she but only known what had been in store for them she wouldn't have taken that luxury quite so for granted. _Please God, let there be a way that we can be together again. _

Elizabeth sighed, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks as she relived how she and Will had spent the earlier part of the evening. She was sure her face was quite red by now, but she didn't care. They were married, and it was truly no one's business _or_ right to impose rules on what they did as husband and wife. They had spent several hours acquainting themselves with the intricacies of each other's bodies, gradually besting the tender, but awkward clumsiness of inexperienced lovers. She didn't think it possible that there was anything left that had not been kissed, caressed, touched, teased or tasted. They had learned each other's preferences as quickly as they had learned their own. Perhaps it had been best that neither of them had had any preconceived notions as to what to expect from one another, but had instead been allowed to make their own discoveries.

While she had not been surprised to find her new husband to be both a gentle and passionate lover, she had been struck by how different her experience had been from what her former governess had advised her to expect. All her talk of pain, humiliation, embarrassment, being forced to submit to his desires, being _taken,_ had made her wonder what all the fuss was about and scared her more than a little. If having intimate relations with a man, even one you were married to, was really that horrible and humiliating then why would any woman allow it? What would be the point, really?

At the time, she had wondered what the woman would have said had she known how often she had freely offered herself to her fiancé. Would she even have believed that he had been the one who insisted they wait? God forbid she had known that Elizabeth hadn't even waited until they were even officially engaged before she began her siege on Will's self control. There was an unspoken understanding, from that very first kiss between her and Will that they would marry eventually with or without permission from her father. So what difference would it really have made? Not that it mattered now, but she was thankful that Will had rebuffed her advances, forcing her to wait until they were married.

Besides, it wasn't as if the woman to woman _talks _she had been forced to listen to before her impending nuptials had been all that informative. Elizabeth, befitting her personality, had been full of detailed questions. However, her governess proved reticent in her answers and hadn't provided her with any information that she hadn't already gleaned from Estrella, and served no other purpose than to further pique her curiosity. The only thing she was confident in was her own personal knowledge of how her body reacted when Will touched her. It never failed that her heart would beat a little faster, her breathing would become shallow, and the unmistakable flutter of butterflies in her stomach would make her almost giddy. Those symptoms were far more in line with Estrella's description of how things worked and so Elizabeth had clung to that knowledge anytime doubt or tales of almost unbearable pain and degradation threatened her resolve.

No matter how eager she had been, there was still that underlying dread of the unknown as was to be expected. What if her governess had been right and Estrella was the one who had been mistaken? Looking back, the whole experience had been distinctly uncomfortable at first, but any discomfort was overshadowed by her desire and need for her husband. And truthfully, there had been some pain. Not much. It had passed quickly. Will had been acutely aware of her discomfiture, and had taken things ever so slowly. When he had reached that final barrier between maiden and married he had kissed her gently, capturing her startled cry. He had continued the kiss as he waited for her to regain her composure before beginning to move again. There had been no humiliation, no time for embarrassment, and certainly no regrets. Any _submission_ involved had been both mutual, and entirely by choice.

As far as _taking _went, that particular concept still gave her some trouble. Will had not _taken _anything. She had freely given herself to him. No, they had freely given themselves to each other. There was something sacred in the knowledge that they had saved a special gift for each other that could never be shared with anyone else. She made a mental note to herself to make sure she was the one who explained these sorts of things to her own daughters—not some dried up, bitter unwed governess—and to be far less – _vague._ A painful knot twisted her stomach as she remembered that her chances of having any daughters – any children at all – were now seriously in question. She felt herself involuntarily tense up as tears of loss pricked at her eyes. That she and Will would have children together had been a foregone conclusion—even if he had claimed he couldn't imagine her as anyone's mother, she had known he was simply teasing. Until this very moment she hadn't realized that even that part of their plans had been called into question.

The change in Will's steady breathing told her that he, too, was starting to wake up. Had she done something to disturb his sleep? Or were they really that attuned to one another that he sensed that she was awake? Will nuzzled her neck as he traced lazy circles on her stomach though the thin fabric of his shirt. Elizabeth placed her hand over his and caressed it with her thumb, much like she had done when she first outwardly acknowledged to herself—and him—the depth of her feelings and realized that he too felt the same. He slowly traced a line of kisses down her neck and shoulder as Elizabeth tried to twist towards him. That particular intimacy had always been her undoing. She smiled at the memory of Will's long ago discovery of that fact and the number of times he had used it to his advantage.

She felt more than heard him swallow hard, and immediately recognized the action for what it meant. He was about to say something that was either emotionally painful to him or just wasn't comfortable talking about. It was one of his numerous subtle expressions and outright quirks she had learned to read, many of them in just the last day. With this particular one she knew to not interrupt, and let him have his say. Nevertheless, she was worried. There were so many things she still wanted to tell him, and had always believed they would have a lifetime together to do so, but now their time together was rapidly growing towards a close and there was no time to wait. _Is he thinking the same thing?_

Will released his hold on her and rolled over on his back with a heavy sigh. "It was the day I met Bootstrap on board the _Dutchman_. I didn't recognize him. I hadn't seen him since I was very young. I'm not even sure_ he_ recognized _me_ at first."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, instinctively knowing that he was about to explain how he had gotten the scars on his back, and that the picture he was about to paint for her was _not_ going to be a pretty one. She was beginning to feel that she might possibly regret having asked for an explanation, but it was too late to change her mind now. Once Will made up his mind about something, it was practically impossible to sway his decision. Elizabeth asked herself why _had_ she asked and why had he chosen _now_ to tell her. _Has he been thinking about it all this time?_ She rolled up on her right side so that she could watch his face as he spoke.

"I remember Davy Jones shouting orders for Mr. Turner, or at least I think it was Jones, I could be wrong about that. I assumed he meant me. Why wouldn't I? But I really don't know now if he did or not," Will paused for a moment and drew a steadying breath. "Bootstrap and I both jumped to do as he commanded, but it somehow went wrong. I honestly don't remember how or even what. It all happened so fast. I think that perhaps Bootstrap recognized me then, but it doesn't matter now. Either way, Jones blamed me for the mistake, and ordered me flogged." Will's voice was cold and emotionless, something Elizabeth was completely unaccustomed to.

"Will, you don't have to tell me this if you don't want to. I understand." Her voice was full of gentle consolation and compassion. She wasn't sure if she was giving him permission to stop or asking him to for her own sake.

"Yes, I do. I _need_ to." He reached his right arm across his body and stroked her arm before grasping her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers. "We promised to not have any secrets between us and I want you to know everything." He paused for a few moments as if trying to gather strength from her and to decide how to proceed with his tale. "Bootstrap tried to take the blame and the punishment. He told Jones who I was. That's how _I _learned who _he _was. It never occurred to me that he could part of the _Dutchman's _crew."

"But he still didn't order Bootstrap to be punished too?" Elizabeth asked incredulously. "I find it hard to imagine Jones passing up a chance to inflict pain on someone." Her hatred for the former captain of the _Dutchman_ was clearly reflected in her tone.

Will hesitated again, turning his face away from her. The story was obviously getting progressively harder for him to tell. He swallowed hard and blurted it out. "His punishment was to administer the lashings."

"_WHAT_?" Elizabeth cried out, reaching her left hand over to his cheek and gently turning his grief stricken face back towards her. Any pity she had managed to scrounge up for her father-in-law and what he had suffered at the hands of Davy Jones vanished in that instant. Likewise for any gratitude she felt for what he had done for Will at the end. Resentment was quickly filling the void. Elizabeth was nothing if not protective of her husband. She was also quick to react emotionally, rather than logically.

"Elizabeth." Will said softly as his eyes briefly focused on a spot beyond her then returned to her face. "I didn't understand it at the time, but please, trust me, it was better that way. I don't think I would have survived had the bo'sun done it."

Elizabeth didn't know what to say. What _could_ she say? This was Will's father they were talking about. The man Will had searched for nearly his entire life. The man who ensured that Will would have another chance at life—one with _her_. Likewise, he was also the man who had abandoned his wife and young son to go pirating, and the man who had nearly come between her and Will. It didn't help that the man in question was guilty of at least one more grievous sin that Will did not yet know of.

Elizabeth's current emotional state couldn't allow her to accept that Bootstrap's other crime hadn't been something he could be held responsible for – before this moment even she hadn't blamed him for what he had done. But _now_? She knew she was reacting with her heart and not her head, but she couldn't help it. It was what it was. She closed her eyes as she moved to lay her head on Will's chest – again noticing the eerie silence from within him.

Will noticed the look of distress, horror and apprehension flash across Elizabeth's face as she shifted her position. He didn't blame her for her reaction, but there was something else to it. Something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. He was at a total loss as to what else might be bothering her and he was not enjoying the sensation. "Elizabeth?" He asked quietly. "What is it? What's wrong?" His concern was evident in his voice. "There's something else, isn't there? Something else about my father."

"He killed James." Her words sounded oddly emotionless.

"Norrington?" Will sounded bewildered. "I didn't realize he was dead. Honestly, I hadn't given him much thought at all. After everything that happened, I can't say I'm all surprised" He paused for a moment at the realization at how cold his words might have sounded to Elizabeth. "I mean I'm not surprised he died, not that my father killed him," he said consolingly, in a weak attempt to cover for his potential blunder. He absently reached up to stroke Elizabeth's hair. _One more thing I'm going to miss._

While Will and James Norrington had never quite seen eye to eye on most situations—mostly those concerning Elizabeth—Will couldn't help but feel some sorrow at his loss. No matter what he had done since he left Isla Cruces, he had been a good man, even if he had been single minded to a fault in his beliefs. Most of all he would always be the one who was ultimately responsible for Will and Elizabeth being together. Bootstrap had known and understood that. How or _why _would he have taken part in his murder?

"Yes," she hesitated then drew a deep breath. "When he helped us—the crew of the _Empress_—to escape from the _Dutchman_. Bootstrap was the one who sounded the alarm." Elizabeth paused before continuing. "Bootstrap is the one who killed him. He died making sure I got away safely – to come back to you." She lifted her head to look Will in the face. Her expression was full of sadness, but nothing like the inconsolable grief she had experienced when Will had been run through.

"I'm sorry," he said softly and truly meant it. "I didn't know. I just assumed…" his voice trailed off as he involuntarily shuddered. "I didn't realize he had been aboard the _Dutchman._ I should have though. Jones had the sword—James' sword. The one I made for his promotion to Commodore." He ran one hand up Elizabeth's arm.

Elizabeth could not speak. The memory of the last time she had seen that sword was still too close and too painful. The flood of tears she had been fighting since that moment threatened to burst forth. She remembered that the sword Will carried ashore was neither his own sword nor the one that had belonged to James. She had an ill-defined memory of Will's cutlass being damaged beyond repair when he was trying to save her from Davy Jones and she dared not ask what had become of the other one—afterwards. She did not want to know. One day, perhaps, but for now it was too close, too painful, and too horrifying to imagine.

Will could see the tears glistening in her eyes, threatening to break free and reached up to touch her face. Elizabeth laid her head back on his chest and allowed him to console her. She wondered what she would do after tonight. Either her father or Will had always been there for her when she overwhelmed by emotion, but soon she would have no one but herself. _I have to be strong for him now and for Father too._

"I can't ask you to forgive him. It's not my place," Will whispered, stroking her hair yet again.

"There's nothing really to forgive now. I'm sure it pained him to whip you. Besides, you didn't see what he was like aboard the _Dutchman. _He wasn't himself. I _know_ that." She sought out his free hand and grasped it tightly. And as for James is concerned…he could have escaped with me and the rest of my crew, but he chose not to. I can't rightfully burden your father with all of the blame." She sighed resignedly. "Truthfully, I shouldn't hold him responsible for any of it." She paused for a second to regroup. "I was thinking with my heart and not my head. I have to learn that I can't do that now."

"Elizabeth, it doesn't matter what the circumstances were. James was your friend. Under different circumstances he could have, no, I think _would_ have eventually been mine too. For you to watch him die had to be difficult. Doubly so that it was at the hands of my father" Will paused for a moment, still continuing to stroke her hair and her back. "It doesn't matter that things were strained between James and me, it still aggrieves me to know what happened to him and how. I honestly believe he always had your best interest at heart."

"It was nowhere near as painful as watching you slip away from me," she said in a choked voice.

"But I'm still here…for now at least." Will's voice trailed off as he realized what he had said. "It doesn't matter the circumstances, Bootstrap is responsible for his own actions."

"You didn't see what he was like, Will. It was horrifying. He wasn't completely… _human_ anymore."

Will's hand closed reflexively over her arm. "But I did see him. After he…" Will's voice was so low that even wrapped up in his arms, Elizabeth could barely hear him, but his meaning was not lost on her.

"No," Elizabeth strangled out. "He couldn't have. You're his son. Please tell me he wasn't the one who did this." She released his hand and flattened her palm over the jagged, inflamed scar on Will's chest. The tears she had been holding back started to trickle down her burning cheeks.

"Yes. He had to. There was no other way. If he hadn't, then I wouldn't be here with you now. Surely you must have realized. You have to understand that," he pleaded.

"Jack kept me from seeing what happened. He explained to me later, but he left that part out."

"That sounds like something he would do." He sounded somewhere between amused at Jack's odd quirk of leaving out information he deemed awkward and annoyed that he had apparently glossed over something so important. "I just can't decide if it was to avoid any unpleasantness on his part witnessing your reaction or if he just hoped you would never learn the details." Will exhaled sharply. "Or maybe he knew what he was doing and thought it better that I tell you. Who knows?" Will rolled his eyes and smiled weakly.

Elizabeth lifted her head and looked at Will. He raised his hand to her face and delicately wiped away her tears with his thumb. "In my head I know _and_ I understand why your father did what he did – he had to. But in my heart it still hurts, and it will for a long time to come. I have to make my peace with it, but I can't just yet."

"There's no hurry. You have all the time in the world for that." He gently ran his fingers over the line of her jaw.

Elizabeth gazed at Will for a long moment, trying to frame her next question. "Will?" She asked gently. "What became of him? I mean, after…you know."

"He's no longer bound to the ship. He can either stay aboard or move on. You'll most likely never see him again."

"Which did he choose?"

Will smiled faintly as he stared into his wife's eyes. "To stay with me. He feels he is still in my debt."

"I suppose that in a way, I am in his debt." Elizabeth looked away as is she was trying to understand her own statement. She hadn't intended to say anything remotely like that, but it had just slipped from her mouth unbidden.

"How so? I'm afraid I don't understand." Will studied her face searching for a clue to the meaning of her peculiar confession. He could tell by the expression on her own face that she was vexed by her own statement.

Elizabeth returned her attention to Will. She stared at him sadly for a moment, and then lightly kissed the scar on his chest. She inhaled deeply to gather her strength before she tried to explain her statement to Will and to herself. "Because if he hadn't done this," she once more traced the scar with her forefinger, "then I wouldn't have you at all." She moved her hand up to caress his cheek. "But he did, and because of that I still get to have you even if it is just for one day every ten years." She smiled sadly, then bent down to softly kiss his mouth. "It helps to know he'll be there to watch over you when I can't."

"But it's not forever. I'll come back to you. I promise." He pulled her face back to him and kissed her again, a bit more passionately than before.

"I would rather only have four or five days with you in my lifetime, than to have to live without you forever," she said softly, trying desperately to not let Will hear how painful it was for her to acknowledge out loud what was in store for them. The silent tears started to flow yet again, but not all of them tears of sadness.

Will grinned up at his tearful wife—she quite obviously had not caught on to what he was telling her--and then rolled her over on her back. Elizabeth looked up at him in total confusion. This was most certainly not the kind of reaction she had expected. It was, at best—_odd_. Her surprise at his peculiar behavior shocked her tears into submission. She narrowed her eyes at him, unsure if she should be angry, frightened or _what_? She could feel herself starting to shiver, even though she wasn't cold.

"That's not how it works," he said happily, kissing her forehead.

"What do you mean?" She sounded more frightened than angry, but more curious than anything.

Will settled in over her, holding her close to him in his arms and kissed her tearstained cheeks. "That's not how it works. That's where they were wrong."

"I still don't understand." She pulled her fists up to rest on Will's chest and settled into a more comfortable position. "Who are _they _and what were they wrong about?"

"Everyone was," he answered "Or at least everyone had some part of it wrong," he added quickly, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's not one day _every _ten years. It's one day _then _ten years," he explained.

"Isn't that the same thing?" She sounded skeptical, but hopeful.

"No, it isn't forever or at least it doesn't have to be..."

"I'm afraid I still don't quite follow." She unclenched her fists and slid one up to rest on his neck. Will's enthusiasm for what he was trying to tell her was becoming contagious and Elizabeth was not so immune as she liked to believe.

"Calypso charged Davy Jones with the duty of ferrying souls for ten years at a stretch after which time he could return to land to be with the one he loved forever."

"And that would be who exactly?" There were too many thoughts running around Elizabeth's brain for her to process everything.

"Calypso—Tia Dalma," he replied, filling in the gaps in her knowledge of the curse or curses as the case may be.

Elizabeth looked horrified. "I'm finding that difficult to imagine. Although I won't argue that they certainly deserve each other." Her newfound hope was beginning to fade. Surely Will realized how unlikely such a pairing sounded.

"She's a goddess, Elizabeth, don't you understand? She can take on whatever form she chooses. She and Jones fell in love, who knows what form she took, but he was still mortal then."

"Then why didn't she just make him immortal? It would have been so much simpler that way, not to mention the lack of cruelty it involved." Elizabeth's voice showed just a hint of sarcasm.

"She did make him immortal, but he still had to prove himself worthy of being with her. It was intended as a gift to him—the immortality, I mean. The ten years ferrying souls was how he had to prove himself."

"Just so he could spend one day with her every ten years for eternity? That hardly seems fair. Why not just live out his normal life with her like normal people do?" She was beginning to wonder exactly where Will was going with this tale.

"You still don't understand do you?" Will rolled himself back onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow, his gaze still focused on Elizabeth's face.

"No." Elizabeth was beginning to get frustrated with her inability to unravel what Will was telling her.

Will used his free hand to brush back Elizabeth's hair where the breeze had blown it into her face. "Calypso granted Jones immortality, but he had to do something…I don't know…noble, perhaps? To prove he was worthy of her gift. That's where the ten years ferrying souls became part of all of it. Once his time was up, he was to come back to her and they would be able to be together forever because they were both immortal."

Elizabeth shook her head. "But that's obviously not what happened, is it?

"No, it isn't. But he did his part. She's the one who wasn't waiting. He won his immortality, but without the rest of his prize."

"She wasn't waiting?" Elizabeth was still quite confused. "Why wouldn't he just move on?"

"He still loved her. It's not something you can just decide to stop," he said teasingly, continuing to play with her hair. "He went back to the land of the dead for another ten years in hopes that she would be waiting for him the next time."

"She still wasn't there, was she?" Elizabeth thought she was beginning to piece things together and wondered how Will had ever figured it all out.

Will shook his head slowly. "No, she never was."

"How long did he keep coming back to find her?" The sadness in her voice startled her. It was true that their story was a sad one, but she hadn't expected to ever feel anything remotely like sympathy for them." She rolled partway up on her side to face Will.

"I don't know. It could have been hundreds of years for all I know." He grasped one of Elizabeth's hands in his own and brought it to his lips.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed gently. "Why did he stop waiting?" She couldn't imagine herself ever giving up on Will no matter how long she had to wait.

"I'm not sure that he ever did," Will said thoughtfully. "It was when the pain of loss grew to be too much for him that he decided to cut out his heart and put it in the chest." He released her hand which she moved to rest on his neck. "Didn't Tia Dalma tell you that part of the story?"

Elizabeth tried to remember what all she had been told by the woman she had never once suspected was a goddess in disguise. "Yes, she did," Elizabeth answered with a nod of her head, "but she left out the part that she was the reason behind it all."

"She did tend to leave out the parts that made her look cruel," Will agreed.

Elizabeth reopened her eyes, shining with the spark of comprehension, to look at her husband's bemused expression. "If immortality was to be Calypso's gift to Davy Jones, then what about…the other?" She flattened one palm over his scar.

Will had halfway hoped she wouldn't ask about that, but now that she had there was no avoiding the subject. "That was a curse of his own making. He thought…" Will hesitated. "He thought that by removing his heart and locking it away, he would no longer feel the pain of her betrayal, or even the love that he still had for her." Will watched Elizabeth's face in order to gauge her reaction and decide how much more to tell her.

"After that is when he betrayed her to the Brethren Court and decided to remain on this side, isn't it?" She moved her hand back up to his neck tried to pull him towards her.

Will nodded, reaching out to caress her hip while resisting her pull. "And that's when he got all tentacly," he said with a grimace. "But he never quit looking for her. No matter what he said, he was still very much in love with her."

"And what would have happened if she had come back to him?"

"Had he not hidden his heart away, he would have been released from his duty, and they would be together now. Or at least that's how I think it works. He might have had to do yet another ten years to make up for his extended leave, as it were."

"And then who would have been the captain? Doesn't the _Dutchman _always have to have a captain?"

"I don't know, just someone else, I suppose. Someone who had passed on and didn't mind the responsibility? It never happened, so I can only guess at that." Will was beginning to worry that Elizabeth was getting dangerously close to the one thing he had no explanation or even theory for.

"That couldn't work. Doesn't the ship have to have a _living _heart?"

"Had Jones gotten what he wanted, there would be no need for that anymore. He created that requirement and he could get rid of it if he wanted."

"But he didn't," Elizabeth said dejectedly.

"But that doesn't mean I can't come back to you."

"But you don't have…" her voice trailed off forlornly as she one more time eased her hand from where it rested on his neck across his chest to where his heart should have been:

Will once again rolled so that Elizabeth was pinned beneath him in the sand. "It's not hidden away from the world. I know exactly where it is," he clarified almost in a whisper. _And it's never completely belonged to me anyway._

"So what you're saying is that all I have to do is _wait _for you?" The words came out of her mouth faster than her brain could process what Will was implying.

"It's ten years," he said quietly.

Elizabeth grinned up at him. She put one hand on either side of his face and pulled him down for a kiss – a long, slow kiss full of hope and promise. "It doesn't matter how long it is as long as I have you back – to _stay_."

Will was breathing hard by the time she let him go. "I suppose that means yes?" He was grinning ear to ear.

"I love you, Will. If I have to wait for ten years to have you back, then so be it. Besides, haven't I already waited ten years to get this far? I'm certainly not going to give up now." She slid both of her hands down his back, the grin on her face matching his.

"You have a point there, don't you?" He laughed, then drew a deep breath. "I'm just not positive. It wasn't like I could ask either of them if it would work. We just have to have faith and _believe_ it will."

"I've always had faith in you. Nothing is going to change that now. Don't ever insult me by suggesting otherwise. You're the only man I've ever loved and wanted and you always will be."

"That _only _thing – that's one of the other requirements."

"That goes for you too," she teased as she wrapped her fingers in his hair.

"Are you insulting _me _now?" He lowered his face closer to hers.

"No," she murmured as she lifted her face to his for yet another kiss. "And what of the other curse? How do we break that one?" She sounded confident that Will would immediately know the answer.

"I don't know how to reverse it or even if it can be," he added quietly, deciding to admit to her that he wasn't sure about everything after remembering what could happen when they kept secrets from each other.

"Oh." Elizabeth sounded disappointed, as well she should have. "But I get to have you back either way, right?" Although she was sure that she already knew the answer, she needed reassurance.

"Of course." He kissed the tip of her nose. "There are still some details to work out –like wh…" His words were unceremoniously cut off by Elizabeth's finger placed across his lips.

"Do we have to work out the details right this minute?" She asked in a sultry voice, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer to her.

"No, I suppose not. Do you have something else in mind?" He inquired with mock innocence. The hand that had been on her hip moved to ease the hem of his shirt higher than it already was.

Elizabeth smiled up at him and nodded her head as she traced the length of one muscular leg with her foot. "I'm sure you can think of something."


	6. Not As I Had Planned

Will opened one eye and squinted. There was no way to tell exactly what time it was, but judging from the position of the sun, it had to be late morning. He allowed his eyelids to drift closed again, as he lay quietly, unmoving, enjoying the cool breeze from the sea, and the warmth of the woman lying beside him. Elizabeth was nestled in his left arm, or at least where his left arm should have been. He had completely lost all feeling in it some time ago, but was reluctant to shift his position for fear of disturbing his wife. Who knew when he would have a chance like this again? It was worth any discomfort he felt just to have her near. Her face, mostly obscured by her blonde hair, was buried in the side of his chest, her arms curled with her fists tucked protectively under her chin. The feel of her warm breath caressing his skin tickled slightly, but as with the rest, he would never have complained. The temptation to wake her up was difficult to resist. He had so much he wanted to tell her, and so little time to do so. The fear that he would forget something important gnawed at his insides. They were rapidly approaching the moment when they would be parted, and there would be no more second chances.

He had nearly fallen back to sleep when Elizabeth sighed, and stretched next to him. He inhaled sharply at the now familiar experience of her smooth, bare skin gliding against his. He still couldn't tell if she was awake yet or not, but at very least she was beginning to stir. He flinched slightly as she tried to bury her face in deeper into his side, the silky strands of her hair tickling his skin to the point of distraction. He felt her body twitch slightly, whether in response to his reaction or something else, was difficult to say. He thought he heard a calm sigh, but it was so faint, that he could easily have been mistaken.

Elizabeth started as she opened her eyes, and for a split second could not remember where she was. _How_ could she have forgotten? She smiled happily to herself, realizing the expanse of pale skin blocking her view belonged to the man who was now her husband, and that he was now hers and hers alone. She moved her head slightly to lightly kiss his exposed flesh. She continued to trail the line of soft, feather light kisses from his side, across his chest and up to his neck before she lifted her face to his. He sucked in a shaky breath, grazing his right hand up her arm to rest on the back of her neck, before pulling her in for a much more intense good morning kiss.

"This is not how I imagined this," Elizabeth said, pulling away, a tinge of sadness coloring her words.

"How so?" Will gazed into her eyes, as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

Elizabeth gave the tiniest shrug of her bare shoulders. "I think I had an image of us snuggled under the duvet, sharing the same pillow. I wanted the first thing I saw to be you looking back at me."

"Like this, Mrs. Turner?" He asked as he rolled them both over on their sides so that they were lying face to face with each other.

Elizabeth giggled. "Or at least something vaguely like it."

Will gave her a weak smile. "I wanted our wedding to be everything you had ever dreamed of." He sighed softly. "I wanted you to have everything you ever wanted, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't give you any of it."

Elizabeth could hear the regret in his voice. She tenderly caressed the side of his face with her fingers. "I love you," she whispered. "That and the fact that you're still here with me are the only things that matter." Her fingers brushed gently over his lips. "And I know you'll come back to me."

Will kissed her fingertips, then wound his fingers through hers. He leaned forward to kiss her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, and finally her lips before pushing himself up to hover over her. "So, Mrs. Turner, what shall we do today?"

Elizabeth smiled. Her eyes were still closed. "Say that again."

"What shall we do today?" he asked, pretending to be puzzled by her request.

"Not _that_ part." She opened her eyes and rolled them dramatically.

"Mrs. Turner? Is that the part you meant?"

"Mmm. Yes, that's it. I won't ever get tired of hearing it, I don't think."

"Are you sure you should use it?"

"Why ever not? I fought for it, I earned it, it's _mine_." Elizabeth noted the concern in Will's voice, but answered determinedly, almost possessively.

"I seem to recall that I had it first, but I'm more than willing to share it with you. I just don't know how wise it would be to claim it right now." He kept the look on his face serious, but inside, he was overjoyed at the prospect of the world knowing that she belonged to him.

"You didn't exactly answer my question," Elizabeth said, lying on palm flat on his cheek. "Why shouldn't I be Elizabeth Turner now? It's who I am." She flashed him a sly grin.

Will resisted the urge to return her smile. "Because you don't know what you'll find once you leave here. Beckett may be gone, but the Company is still strong." Will paused to consider what to say next. "You – you might have a better chance of survival as Elizabeth Swann."

"That doesn't matter to me. I've said it once and I'll say it again. I'm Elizabeth _Turner_ now, and I'm not going to hide that fact."

Will looked at her seriously. He didn't want to tell her what to do or what not to do, even though it was now his legal right to do so—not that he ever intended to exercise those rights, they just weren't that important to him—but he needed to make her understand that her survival was far more important than what name she used—not an easy task with someone as headstrong as Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth, I'm just trying to point out that Swann will carry more weight than Turner ever will. Your family has ties to the aristocracy. You could go back to England. There would be people there who would help you." He diverted his eyes from her face for a moment before meeting her eyes again. "My family—I don't even know what to say mine is. I'm the son of a pirate. I'm a tradesman. I'm no one of importance to anyone besides you."

Elizabeth stared him straight in the eyes. "Don't _ever_ say that again. You're a better man than any I've ever met, and you mean everything to me. And as for the rest, it doesn't matter to me – _you _matter to me. I'm proud to be your wife." Her bright smile began to fade. Her eyes shone with tears of frustration that she refused to set free.

"I'm just worried about your safety, that's all. Please understand that. If they think I'm…gone, then maybe they will leave you in peace," he pleaded.

Elizabeth turned her head to one side so Will couldn't see her face, and the tears that were getting harder to hold back. It was bad enough that she would have to tell him goodbye in a few hours, but to pretend he was no longer a part of her life was unthinkable. "Do we have to talk about this now?" She fought to keep her voice from breaking.

"No, we don't have to talk about it at all." Will pushed himself back over and into a seated position with his back to his wife. "Elizabeth, I won't ever tell you what to do or try to make your decisions for you, but you can't blame me for wanting to protect you." He turned his head to glance back at her. "You're all I have. You're all I've ever really wanted." He turned back to look out towards the waves breaking on the shoreline.

Elizabeth reached over and lightly touched his back in reassurance as she sat up. She placed both of her hands slightly below his left shoulder as she leaned forward to kiss him there. She then rested her cheek on the same spot. "I didn't mean to upset you, or make you angry."

He tilted his head to the left to rest against hers. "I'm not angry. I could never be truly angry with you. It's just frustrating not knowing what lies ahead for you, not being able to take care of you, knowing that all of the plans we made were for nothing."

"I don't deserve you."

"No, you don't. You deserve someone who can take care of you, protect you, provide you with a home. Someone you can build a family with. I can't do any of those things now. I couldn't do many of them before."

"Don't say that."

"It's true." Will's voice was flat and emotionless.

"Even if it is, it doesn't matter to me," Elizabeth sighed softly. "And that's not what I meant anyway." She paused just long enough to rebuild the courage she needed for what she was about to say. "You didn't deserve to be burdened with someone as selfish as me."

"You're not selfish."

"Yes, I am. How much have you suffered through because of me? You stole a ship of the Royal Navy to save me. You risked your life to rescue Jack from the gallows because _I _didn't think it was right. You worked far too hard, and far too many hours, just to prove yourself to me. Even these," she traced the scars on his back. "No matter what you say, you got them because you were trying to save _me_, and then suffered in silence because of what I did with…_to _Jack."

Anyone who could have heard Elizabeth at that moment would have noticed the hysteria creeping into her voice. Will twisted around to wrap his arms around her in an attempt to console her. He hadn't realized how tense she was until he felt her relax as she slumped into his embrace. She buried her face into the right side of his neck and rested her left hand on the opposite side in what was apparently a vain attempt to hide her tears. _I can't let her slip back into the state she was in when we arrived here._ "Elizabeth, sweetheart, everything I did was by my own choice. I would do it again, if I had to. Please don't blame yourself. I can't leave you with that burden."

Elizabeth shifted to a less awkward position, but kept her face down. "Jack told me that when he first met you, you told him you were willing to die for me," Elizabeth whispered.

"Yes," Will confirmed slowly, "but why are you bringing that up now?"

"I'm not that brave."

"Bravery had nothing to do with it. Besides, I think you may have killed a few people...fish…something, for me."

"It's not the same."

"No, it's not, and I don't want you to worry about it. What happened can't be undone. We won't gain anything be dwelling on it. I love you, and that's all that really matters to me right now."

"I love you, too. Nothing can change that."

"Even if after today I won't see you for ten years? Even not knowing what will happen to us?"

"Even if you could stay, we wouldn't know what lies ahead. That's how the world works. We never could have foreseen where we are right now."

"I know." Will was relieved to hear Elizabeth no longer teetering on the edge of despair.

"And as for the rest…we have today. Let's make the best of it we can." Elizabeth eased her left hand off his shoulder and down his arm to rest on his left hand – palms together, scars crossed.

"So I can take care of you today?" Will asked impishly. "And what of our other plans?"

"What is that quote? _Man proposes, but God disposes? _ We'll have to wait and see where this leads us and then make a new plan of attack."

"It's not a war."

"But it will be a struggle, we can't pretend it won't be," Elizabeth said seriously. "But," her voice perked up. "I'm not going to depress myself anymore. I think I shall just relax and allow my husband to fulfill my every desire."

Will choked back a laugh. "Is that how it's going to be?"

Elizabeth exhaled sharply. "That's not _exactly _what I meant, but now that you mention it, it doesn't sound all that bad of an idea."

"Does this mean I'm to be one of those husbands who is compelled to answer his wife's every beck and call?"

"As tempting as it sounds, I could never do that to you. I think though, I would like to go for a walk."

"Done," Will said as he reached for his breeches and shook the sand out of them. He dusted off his feet, then pulled the breeches up to his knees before standing up to pull them the rest of the way on and tying the cord at the waist.

"Sailor's knot."

"What ?" Will asked, turning his head towards Elizabeth, noticing with a touch of disappointment that she had put her dress back on and was now standing up, busily brushing the sand from it.

"Sailor's knot. You tied your breeches with a sailor's knot. It doesn't slip easily, and is easy to untie."

He turned around, put his hands on his hips, and stared at her for a moment.

"What?" Elizabeth asked this time, curious as to what she had done to make him look at her so strangely.

"I can't decide if I should be impressed that you recognized that or scared that you did. Might I ask what you plan on doing with this bit of information?" He raised an eyebrow as he spoke.

Elizabeth batted her eyes innocently, and gave him a small shrug of her shoulders. She then stepped over to him, and draped her arms around his neck. "You're not complaining, are you?" She kissed his chin.

"Never." He bent his face towards hers and kissed her soundly. He smiled at the dreamy expression on his wife's face when he eventually pulled back from her – eyes closed, eyelids fluttering, lips still parted, breathing a bit harder than normal. "Elizabeth?" he said almost reluctantly, "shall we go?"

Elizabeth sighed heavily as she opened her eyes to see Will standing before her. She smiled brightly when she noticed he was standing with his arm crooked as if ready to escort her to a ball. "Don't you think you should put on your shirt first? It wouldn't impress your crew very much if their new captain arrived sunburned to a point he could hardly move."

"I don't seem to know where it is. Someone else was wearing it last I recall."

"Whoever would do a thing like _that_?" Elizabeth played innocent while she scanned the area looking for the errant shirt. She remembered that she had been wearing it. She knew _when_ and _why_ it had come off. What she didn't recall was where it had gone from there. She was on the verge of surrendering her search when she spied just the tiniest sliver of maroon fabric peeking from beneath the edge of the now seriously rumpled blanket. She stepped away from Will, reached down to snatch it up, only to stumble back one step as the fabric slipped through her fingers. She grinned sheepishly at Will as she tried again, this time tugging harder to free the missing garment from its sandy prison. The shirt popped free spraying a fine coating of sugary white sand over everything.

"You want me to wear _that?" _Will ran a hand over his face to brush the sand from it.

Elizabeth flapped the shirt several times trying to rid it of as much grit as possible, but it wasn't an easy task, not to mention that it sent more sand flying about. Seeing that her efforts were going mostly unrewarded, she changed tacks and began brushing furiously at the fabric. "I'm so sorry, I have no idea how it got _there_."

Will began laughing as he took the shirt from her. "I know precisely how it got there." He pulled it over his head and let it hang loose. "And I think we must both bear the blame for that. Now shall we?" he asked, offering her his hand.

After a short side trip for Will to retrieve his knife, the pair walked down to the beach, hand in hand, hardly able to keep their eyes off each other. They turned towards a stand of palm trees visible in the distance when they reached the water's edge. Elizabeth stopped and scrunched her bare toes in the sand. Will followed suit.

"I'm going to miss doing this," he said absently.

"Walking with me?" Elizabeth picked up their joined hands and kissed Will's knuckles one by one as they continued their stroll.

"Yes, that." He smiled at her. "And feeling the sand between my toes. It reminds me of us – before. When we could steal some time alone and we would go for walks near the water."

"Then it's only appropriate that we spend today on a beach." Elizabeth wrapped her arm around Will, sidled up next to him and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Yes. Yes, it is." He turned his head to kiss her hair.

"Will? Where will I go after today?" She tried her best to not let her fear show in her voice, but wasn't able to do so.

"Shipwreck City." He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

"But this isn't Shipwreck Island. I've only seen it at night, but this isn't it." The worry was beginning to take control of her speech.

"No, it's not, but it's in the same archipelago."

"Would this mean that somewhere in the bag of trinkets I was given, is a heading to go along with the compass? Am I to row myself there?"

"No." He kissed the side of her head again and nuzzled her ear. "Jack is supposed to send someone for you. I'm just not sure how soon after I…after sunset."

Elizabeth kicked at the water washing around her feet then lifted her head from Will's shoulder and looked at him. "Do you ever wonder why after all that has happened, after what I did, Jack always does the right thing in the end? How many times has he done what's right by both of us when it could have cost him so much? Even given that he's a good man, he's still a pirate."

"I can't say for sure. I really don't have anything to base this on, but I don't think he's always been a pirate."

Elizabeth's eyebrows creased in confusion, considering the possibility. "Then...why? _How?_ It makes no sense."

"It not making sense would be quite typical of Jack, don't you think?" Will smiled mischievously. "Think about it. He plays at being a dirty, low life pirate, and yet he's obviously well educated. You're the one who read all the stories about him. How many other pirates do you know who have his reputation, and have sacked so many ports without a single report of rape, pillage, plunder, murder, mischief, mayhem, or what have you? It's sometimes nearly impossible to see, but he does nothing without some specific goal in mind."

"I never thought about it like that. But his father is a pirate – Captain Teague. I saw him. How could Jack have ever been anything different?" Elizabeth winced as she realized what she had said and regretted every syllable. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you…I wasn't thinking."

Will smiled at her, reaching his left hand up to trace the side of her face with one finger. "I understood what you meant. Don't let it worry you. Maybe Jack's father wasn't always a pirate either. I honestly have no idea."

"And what of _your _father? How do you think he ended up leading the life he did?"

Will contemplated his answer for a minute or two as they continued their stroll down the beach. "I…I don't think he was a pirate at first either. I think he may have been a merchant sailor like my mother always told me, but I'm certain he had turned to piracy by the time he left us. I think she believed that it would be easier for me if I didn't know. I idolized him as a child. I'm sure she didn't want me to follow in his footsteps as it were – not that that did any good." Will rolled his eyes.

"Don't say that. She did a fine job raising you. What has happened to you – to _us_, is no one's fault."

"I know. Now can we please find something a bit happier to talk about? We're beginning to discuss things that are far too serious for newlyweds."

Elizabeth laughed as she stepped in front of Will. She draped her arms around his neck and began kissing him all while continuing to walk backwards towards the palm trees that were their destination. Will wrapped his arms around her waist, and held her as close as possible. They hadn't covered more than ten paces, all of it while focused intently on each other's lips, when Elizabeth took one false step, and fell over backwards into the waves washing against the sand. Will, if possible, was paying less attention to where they were going than his wife was, and fell heavily on top of her. Elizabeth grunted as her breath was knocked out of her. Will quickly pushed his hands into the soft sand in an effort to raise himself off of her, but Elizabeth kept her arms locked around his neck, impeding any progress he might have made.

"That wasn't very subtle, now was it?" she teased.

"What?" Will's eyes narrowed in confusion, then widened as he grasped her meaning. "I had no part of this, but now that you mention it…" He smiled invitingly down at her. "I can't say that _you_ were very subtle."

"Are_ you_ trying to lead me into temptation?" Elizabeth feigned shocked innocence.

Will dipped his head and kissed her lips. "I don't think it would require any leading." He looked up and ahead of them. "But since you mentioned it, there would appear to be a spring or something near the trees. Perhaps you would allow me to lead you there?"

"And the temptation part?"

"I would hate to disappoint you so I'll see if I can think of something." He kissed her again before rolling off of her, and climbing to his feet. He then offered a hand in assistance to Elizabeth who had managed to sit up in the wet sand and rapidly retreating water.

Will was right about the spring, but it turned out to be much more than he expected. As anticipated, there was a small, shallow pool of fresh water surrounded by graceful palm trees. The water was crystal clear, the bottom was clean, white sand, the sides sloped gently into a slightly deeper depression in the center, giving the whole thing the appearance of a flattened bowl. The ground rose sharply on the side away from the sea. Water from above spilled over a rocky edge into the pool in front of them. Off to one side was a narrow track, too narrow to have been made by humans, leading towards higher ground, and apparently, the water's source. A dense screen of trees, vines, bushes and other plants crowded the sides of the path.

Will and Elizabeth cautiously negotiated the narrow pathway. The abundance of decaying vegetation covering the pathway obscured the slippery rock beneath. Elizabeth's struggle to maintain her footing overrode her reluctance to release Will's hand. After the third or fourth time that she nearly fell, she impulsively reached out for something stationary to hang on to. Will patiently waited for her to regain her footing each time but no longer tried to catch her when she slipped.

Reaching the top of the ridge they had first seen, they still did not find the expected spring. Instead, they discovered a series of step like drops, carved into the living rock by the water, about five yards or so in width, leading still higher and further away from the sea.

"It's beautiful," Elizabeth commented as she admired the movement of the water down the course. In some sections it trickled lazily over an edge, in others the flow of the water was so steady, that it appeared to be an unmoving curtain that stood out in sharp contrast to the sections where the water splashed and swirled in an impatient rush towards its destination.

"Is it?" Will tore his eyes away from the water, and gazed at his wife. "It's not as beautiful as you, though." Although she did not say anything in reply, Will noticed the faintest of smiles playing at the corners of her mouth and palest of blushes color her cheeks. "Would you like to continue?"

Elizabeth nodded, not taking her eyes from the breathtaking sight before her.

The climb became increasingly arduous as the ground beneath their feet became more rugged, the vegetation thicker – some still dripping moisture from yesterday's storm—and the pathway grew steeper. The sounds of animals skittering through the undergrowth as they fled their unexpected intruders, and the calls of the birds screeching in the trees startled Elizabeth more than once. Will was either completely unfazed by the sounds, or he was putting on a brave front for his wife. Elizabeth did wonder if his apparent lack of concern for their surroundings was born of the knowledge that nothing – save stabbing his heart, could physically harm him. _Does he even realize he's changed in that respect?_

Will gasped in shock as he reached the topmost portion of the trail.

"What?" Elizabeth asked, before she too saw what had caught Will's attention. "Oh my," she breathed.

At the top of the cliff lay the spring that was most certainly, the source for all the water below. It was quite large, the size of a small pond, perhaps fifty or so yards across. The side nearest the cliff's edge sloped gently inward for a few feet before dropping off quickly. The clarity of the water made it difficult to estimate its depth, but it was obviously substantial. The water itself had an unusual translucent blue green cast to it that made the whole area resemble a mammoth, highly polished gemstone. Lush clumps of various ferns grew right up to the water's edge, their graceful fronds arching towards, as if to touch, the water's surface. On the plateau on the far side from Will and Elizabeth, was a thicket of trees growing wild, in the rich, black soil. Many of them bore fruit that the young couple recognized as both edible _and _good to eat. They had learned the hard way during their travels that the two terms were not entirely synonymous.

"Do you think it's safe to drink? I am _so _thirsty after that climb," Elizabeth asked Will, although she was well aware that he had no more reason than she did to know such things.

"Let's see," he answered, walking towards the edge that dropped off the most, he crouched down, dipped one finger tentatively into the water, then tasted it. His forehead wrinkled in bewilderment, contemplating the surface of the water for a moment.

"Well? Is there something wrong with it?" Will's expression had momentarily unnerved Elizabeth.

Will immersed his entire hand into the water and swirled it around. A bemused smile formed on his face. "The water's warm. It's a hot spring."

"At this point I don't really care," she commented as she knelt down beside him and began scooping up handfuls of water to drink. She paused for a moment, a thoughtful expression forming on her face. "Actually this is even better, because right now I would love nothing better than a bath."

"Help yourself. I'll just watch," Will said innocently.

Elizabeth scowled at him for a moment, then broke into a grin. "Oh, will you now?" She teasingly shoved at him, pushing him off balance, and into the water.

Will had apparently been about to offer his wife an equally saucy reply as he hit the water with his mouth open. He resurfaced quickly, spewing water like a fountain, dark brown curls now thoroughly soaked, and hanging in his face. He leaned back to float just below the surface and pushed his hair out of the way. "You, my dear, are going to pay for that. I don't know how. I don't know when. But rest assured, I am _not_ going to forget that," he said with a laugh.

"Will, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to push you that hard," Elizabeth pleaded seriously, offering him her hand to help him out.

Will rolled in the water to face her. "Apology accepted." He reached out to take the hand she offered.

And pulled.

Elizabeth hit the water with a small startled cry and a huge splash. ´"Will!" she blurted out angrily, the second she broke the surface.

"Yes?" Will's face was a model of complete innocence.

"I asked for that, didn't I?" she conceded with a laugh, and started to swim towards the shallow side.

Will grabbed one slender ankle as she neared him. Elizabeth flipped around to face him as he reached his free hand to grab her about the waist. The hand on her ankle began a slow journey upwards towards her thigh.

"I didn't know you could swim this well," Elizabeth commented, as they maneuvered their way towards the shallow end.

"Occupational hazard."

"I didn't realize that being a blacksmith required you to spend so much time in the water." They were now where Elizabeth could touch the sandy bottom with her toes, but only barely and even then it left the lower part of her face submerged.

"In case you've forgotten, I'm not currently employed as a blacksmith. And no, it wouldn't require quite so much time in the water. Unless, of course, I was taking a break to help my wife bathe."

Elizabeth exhaled slowly at the feel of Will's hands continuing their exploration.

She tilted her head back as Will began to kiss the base of her neck while simultaneously easing her dress upwards or at least as well as he could given its current sodden condition. She wrapped one arm around his neck for support, and worked the other arm out of the sleeve opening, then repeated the process with the other side. Will scrunched the garment into a rough ball and tossed it to the shore, while Elizabeth took the opportunity to ease one hand down Will's front to the bottom of his shirt, admiring while she did how it clung to his muscular chest. Will pushed them closer towards the shallow water so that Elizabeth could stand comfortably on her own feet, with just the tops of her shoulders breaking the surface of the pleasantly warm water. Elizabeth's other hand followed the first and began peeling the wet fabric away from Will's skin in a reciprocal effort to divest him of his clothing. He mirrored Elizabeth's earlier actions by carefully removing one arm at a time from the sleeves and then tossing the shirt to land near Elizabeth's dress.

Will wrapped his arms around Elizabeth and kissed her full on the lips then suddenly pulled back. "My knife!" He blurted out in alarm, reaching with one arm to check for it, but to no avail.

"What about it?" Elizabeth clearly wasn't interested in stray cutlery. She had something entirely different on her mind.

"It's gone." Will pushed away from Elizabeth and scanned the bottom of the spring. The clarity of the water made it easy to see all the way to the bottom, but the silvery reflection off the white sands covering it made it difficult to identify anything that could be the knife's short blade.

"I can't say I would be overly distressed at its loss," Elizabeth said with all seriousness.

"But my father gave it to me," Will replied absently, continuing his frantic search.

"But I can't forget what he used it for." Elizabeth spoke so softly that Will almost couldn't make out the words. "But I also know he didn't have a choice. I just don't have to like it."

"All you have to do is ask, and I'll stop looking for it."Will turned in the water towards Elizabeth as he spoke.

She hadn't expected him to say anything, but she could tell from his expression that he was serious. She could also see in his eyes how much the knife meant to him, no matter what its most recent purpose had been. "I would never ask something like that of you, you know that." She bent her head to peer into the water and join the hunt.

"Yes," he said simply, "I do know that." Will swam a few yards away from Elizabeth to search the area where he had fallen in earlier, or rather, where Elizabeth had pushed him in.

Elizabeth raised her head, feeling more than hearing Will dive beneath the surface. Supposing that he had spied his missing knife, she allowed herself to lie back in the soothing waters and float, legs dangling beneath her, as she waited.

And waited.

A brief flash of concern overtook her, quickly followed by the sickening realization that for Will, for now at least, it didn't matter how long he stayed under. She mused over the idea, considering the array of advantages and disadvantages of possessing such a unique skill. So lost in her own little world was she, that the touch of Will's hand on her foot seriously startled her. She instinctively jerked her foot away from him, returning to a vertical position in the water, amidst a generous amount of splashing. Her toes skimmed the sandy bottom, as she slid beneath the water's surface in her momentary panic. Upon resurfacing, she gasped for breath, then realized that she wasn't quite where she could keep her head above water without resorting to floating, treading water or _something._ She inhaled sharply; again starting to panic when she felt Will grasp her calf. He then ran his fingers over her ankle, and then kissed the top of one narrow foot, then the other. Elizabeth laid her head back in the water, stretched out her arms for stability, and relaxed. Will continued his painstakingly slow journey, with his fingers and lips, up her calf, to her knees, to her thighs…Elizabeth gasped, trying to pull one leg up to wrap around her his waist, only to be rewarded by submerging her own face under the water yet again.

Will retreated from his position to allow her to recover. Even from his position beneath the water's surface he could tell that she was breathing much harder, much as he was, and none of it had anything to do their location or swimming.

Elizabeth resurfaced, spit out a mouthful of water, and waited for Will to continue. _This is _not _one of the advantages I had considered_. She felt his hands encircle her tiny waist as he kissed the flat surface of her stomach. _And for a man who was so insistent that he not do anything to besmirch my reputation, he certainly isn't showing any hesitation now. _She fought in vain to control her labored breathing as he glided one work roughened hand from her waist to lightly graze one breast, then over one shoulder to behind her neck. He set his lips to hers and kissed her with the now much anticipated amount of heat and passion.

Elizabeth drew her arms in to embrace him and returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm. "I see you found your knife," she said, pulling away slightly.

"Mmm, on the bottom, as expected. It must have fallen out when you were trying to drown me," he teased.

"I seem to recall that you tried to return the favor, she responded, inching her hands down to the waist of his breeches, and again meeting his lips for a kiss. "Sailor's knot," she mumbled into his mouth, deftly untying the cord on his breeches.

"Quite secure in most cases," Will murmured, pulling back slightly.

"But easy to untie, although a bit more of a challenge without looking." Elizabeth tilted her face up, and kissed the tip of his nose.

"And wet, don't forget wet." Will added laughingly.

"But not a problem to someone truly intent on their task." Elizabeth freed the knot and slid her hands to Will's hips, then slid his breeches downward. "I don't think we need these."

.

Will leaned in to touch his forehead to hers as he drew in a ragged breath. There was no possible way for him to disguise where he hoped things were leading, nor was there any reason for him to believe he was anything but right. "Would you like some help with that?" His voice cracked with desire as he asked, but he did not wait for an answer as he somewhat awkwardly freed himself from his remaining clothing, knife included, which he subsequently wadded into a loose ball, as he had everything else. He paused for a moment with one hand over his head in preparation to toss the bundle ashore.

"This will never work," he breathed, continuing to both hold the clothing aloft, while kissing and caressing his wife with his remaining hand.

"Where's your sense of adventure?" Elizabeth accused seductively, cautiously moving backwards across the sandy bottom towards the bank, leading him along with her.

Will choked back a laugh. "That's _not_ what I meant. My sense of adventure is perfectly intact," he replied with the same tone. "I meant that our clothes won't dry bunched up like that." He obediently followed her lead towards the shallows.

"They can wait. I can't."

"Is that so?" Will tossed the wadded clothing towards shore, but missed dry land by several feet. He huffed in irritation, trying to decide what to do next.

Elizabeth turned her head towards the water's edge when she heard the faint "plop" of the knife hitting the water. She relinquished her hold on Will, knowing full well that once he had his mind made up about something, there was no deterring him from his goal. No matter how intrigued he was with her offer, he would go rescue the confounded knife one more time _and_ take care of the laundry, as it were. "Go," she sighed in resignation, sliding past him to swim out towards deeper water again.

She lay back in the water and ran her fingers through her hair while trying to remember the last time she had been able to properly wash it. Giving up on that, she righted herself and rubbed at her arms and face, in an attempt to remove at least the top layer of dirt on her skin. She quickly abandoned that project too, and simply allowed herself to float upright, with just her head barely above the water as she watched Will carefully spreading their clothing out in the blazing sunshine.

The whole procedure made her remember how different they truly were. She had grown up in luxury. If she wanted a new dress, she got a new dress. That was all there was to it. Will had never had more than one semi-decent suit at a time, and even then his best clothes were frequently in need of mending. If something she was wearing was damaged or stained, there was always someone there to repair it or clean it for her, and if that didn't work then it was easily replaced. That had not been an option for Will. She never once in her life had been bothered with the care of her wardrobe – that's why her family had servants; they had even been there to help her dress and undress. And while Will was adapting quite nicely to the latter task, his current concern with their clothing was surely born of his lifelong need that he take care of himself and his belongings, because no one else would.

Another wave of panic passed through her as she realized that of the two of them, Will would be equally adept at both the challenge that lay before him and the one that lay before her, while in all honestly, she was ill equipped to do most anything. She had learned to become far more resourceful than the average highborn lady, but now she was quite possibly facing a life of poverty – something she had no firsthand experience with. Her father had always taken care of her, but now he was gone. She had naively believed, and rightfully so, that Will would be there for her once they were married; and yet that wasn't to be, either.

She squeezed her eyelids tightly together, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening yet again. _ I have to stay strong for him. He has no choice but to leave me, and I can't make it any harder for him. _She wiped one wet hand across her face the moment she heard the distinctive sound of Will diving back into the water.

"What's wrong?" Will's voice was tender and comforting as he brushed damp fingers down her cheek.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Nothing…nothing that you can fix." She stretched so that her toes barely scraped the sandy bottom of the spring.

"If there were any way…."

Elizabeth opened her eyes – the unshed tears still shining in them. "Shhh." She smiled faintly and with an increasingly familiar gesture for them, touched her index finger to his lips. "I don't want to waste any time talking about what cannot be changed."

Will lifted his hand to hers and lightly kissed her palm. "I love you."

Despite the tears, that only moments before had threatened to break free, Elizabeth's face beamed with unbridled joy. "I love you too. I don't tell you that enough, do I?"

"Who's to say how much enough is? I still know, even if you don't say it aloud." Will pushed several strands of wet, blonde hair out of her face.

Elizabeth's serious expression returned. "But if I had told you when I needed to, then –"

"Shhh," Will said and put a finger to her lips, duplicating her gesture. "That's behind us now. I don't want to waste time talking about it anymore than you do."

Elizabeth nodded as she eased her arms around his neck. "Now where were we?"


	7. Plans Made and Plans Delayed

Elizabeth plucked uncomfortably at her still damp dress as she shifted to a more comfortable position. It wasn't that where she was, sitting between Will's outstretched legs, leaning back against his bare chest, was uncomfortable, but she was mindful of the fact that Will was perhaps not resting in the most comfortable of positions. He hadn't actually complained— he never did—and in all honesty, she thought he might be asleep, or at very least dozing, with his back pressed firmly against the trunk of a towering coconut palm. He had his arms wrapped securely around her waist, with his hands resting lightly on her abdomen. Elizabeth turned her head to the side as she returned her hands to lie atop Will's. Off to the side, in the dappled shade created by the palm fronds stirring restlessly in the breeze, was a neat pile of peels, pits and seeds from a variety of tropical fruits. Will's knife stood embedded in the ground next to the remains of early mangos and late custard apples. Elizabeth sighed, pushing away the memory of her squeamishness at the thought of Will having used the same blade that had been used to carve out his heart to cut the fruit.

"Is something wrong?" Will asked, sleepily.

"I didn't mean to wake you." Elizabeth rolled her head to face forward again and gently caressed the back of his hands with her fingers.

"I wasn't asleep."

"Yes, you were," she teased. She could feel Will shift just enough to allow him to kiss the top of her head.

"Guilty as charged, but you didn't answer my question." He continued to nuzzle her hair.

"There are lots of things wrong." She tilted her head to one side, in hopes of enticing her husband to continue his current activity.

"That's still not _quite _what I asked," he pointed out, his voice slightly muffled by the abundance of blonde hair he had burrowed his face into.

"I know. I was just thinking, really." Elizabeth felt Will's teeth lightly nip at her earlobe.

"About what?" Will pulled his head back from Elizabeth, abruptly both curious and slightly fearful about her answer.

"Have you ever thought about where we would be if…" Elizabeth sighed heavily, "if Beckett hadn't come to Port Royal?"

"Not here, I'm sure." Will waited for what he was sure would be Elizabeth's clever response, but she didn't say anything. "No, I haven't been able to allow myself to. Everything has been so…_uncertain_."

"I have," she offered.

"And where would we be instead?" Will's voice betrayed his interest in how Elizabeth thought their lives would have played out, had circumstances or fatenot intervened. He was silently relieved that her thoughts hadn't led her elsewhere, to conditions and restrictions he would rather not think about.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and began her tale. "We have our own house. It's not very big, but it's enough."

"So we're not living with your father anymore? I must be doing quite well at the smithy."

"You are. But you make nothing but exquisitely beautiful, perfectly balanced swords – no more locks or nails or horseshoes and the like."

"And what else?" Will asked bemusedly, although truthfully, he did find the idea of being strictly a sword smith rather appealing. It was too bad that the idea was nothing more than a figment of Elizabeth's imagination.

"We have a baby. A boy."

Will thought he could detect a hint of longing in Elizabeth's voice, but decided to not comment on it. "We do? That was rather quick wasn't it?" He ignored his own twinge of regret that what Elizabeth was telling him was no more than just a story for their amusement.

"We've been married almost a whole _year_," Elizabeth stated, sounding slightly annoyed that Will hadn't grasped what should have been perfectly obvious. "Maybe he hasn't been born yet, but he will be soon."

"I see."

"His name is William. He looks like you."

"Even though he's just an infant? Somehow that doesn't sound very complimentary to my countenance."

"Of course he looks like you, _or_ at least he will when he's older—a mother can tell these things."

"I'll have to take your word on that. But what if I want a little girl with blond hair and brown eyes, like her mother?" He again nestled his face in Elizabeth's hair.

"Then you'll have to wait because I want to give you a son first." From the sound of her voice, there was no denying how adamant she was in that particular desire.

"So we'll have more than one child? I'm having trouble imagining you with one baby much less an entire brood."

"We've talked about this before. And exactly _why _can't you imagine me with a baby?" Elizabeth asked, sounding more than a bit irritated "I thought we had decided together that we wanted a large family."

"We did. I've just never been quite able to picture the reality of it. I spent too much time worrying that things wouldn't work out, that I wouldn't be able to marry you. I couldn't let myself dream of how our life would be together."

"That's almost all I ever thought about—what life would bring us. I never once stopped dreaming about it, not even after we were arrested. All I wanted then or even now was to be your wife…and a mother," she added quietly.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the sense of loss and shame that was beginning to well up inside her. How could she not have remembered that the reality of Will's life had always been such that believing in hopes and dreams had been mostly a wasted effort on his part? It was yet another of their differences. She had always gotten what she wanted, until now. Even Will had fallen into the category of "what she wanted." How many times had she gone on and on about their future, and how happy and perfect things would be, while Will faced up to the very real possibility that her father, at any moment, could have withdrawn his permission for Will to court her—much less marry her—and there would have been nothing he could have done about it.

"You would have been a very good mother. I would have been proud to raise children with you." Will paused for a moment then solemnly continued. "But that was before…All of that will have to wait."

"But what if we don't have to wait? What if…?" Elizabeth awaited Will's response. She could feel his fingers tense up against her stomach as he realized the point she was trying to make.

His answer was both cold and abrupt. "No."

"No? What do you mean 'No'? It's possible," she said pleadingly, more than a little taken aback at his reaction.

"I know it's possible. Don't you think I considered that? I just don't want that – not for you, not for me, and certainly not for our child. Perhaps it would have been wiser if I…we…I don't know."

"Don't say that. What's done is done, and we can't change it now." Elizabeth was fully aware that there was nothing either of them could do to control the situation at this point – she had either conceived, or she hadn't, simple as that. "I just don't understand why you would deny me that one thing if you could," Elizabeth pouted, momentarily slipping back into her former self.

"Just because Beckett is gone doesn't mean you're safe from the Company yet. You're still in danger. And do I need to remind you that you're going to have to start your life over without me? It's not going to be easy. Do you want to subject a child to that?" Will snapped.

"I realize that, but…" Regaining her composure, she kept her tone even and calm. Will may have given her a curt answer, but she knew he wasn't angry with her—just angry that none of the plans they had made together were going to come to fruition.

"But what? I don't want to leave you, but I have no other choice… or at least, no other choice I'm willing to consider. It hurts to think about how much I'm going to miss you over the next decade. I can't imagine what it would be like to return to a son or daughter that I don't even know. I would be a stranger to them. I don't think I could bear that." He made no effort to hide the pain in his voice as he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Will. It was just wishful thinking on my part," Elizabeth stammered, now staring straight ahead into the tree line, trying to keep herself from trembling with sorrow. "I didn't mean to cause you any more pain. I love you too much for that."

"No, I'm sorry." He gently kissed the side of her head as he hugged her more tightly than before. "I shouldn't have reacted so strongly. It's just…it's just that I know what it was like to have an absentee father – even if he did choose that path on his own." Will drew several slow breaths to try and calm himself down. "I don't want that for our children. I want to be there to raise them _with_ you." His voice had changed to take on a more soothing, consolatory tone.

Elizabeth pushed herself away from Will and stood up with her back to him. Will quickly followed suit. He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. She tried to keep her face hidden to mask her unshed tears, but he could see the sadness in her eyes.

"Elizabeth, sweetheart, I didn't mean to upset you," he said softly as he wrapped his arms around her.

Elizabeth leaned into him and buried her face in chest. "It's not that. I don't want you to go, and yet I know leaving won't be any easier for you," she mumbled. "I don't want to cry. I want to be happy – happy to still have you even if it's just for one day, happy to know you'll come back to me, happy to finally have married you. I feel so selfish and ashamed."

"Of what? You have every right to be sad, to be angry or anything else you want to feel. We _both _do. If I knew of any way to make what we face any easier, I would." Will gently rubbed her back as he continued to hold and comfort her. He lifted his head to the sky to check the sun's position and to gauge how much time they had left together. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach as he realized it was already late afternoon – he probably, at most, had little more than three hours left before he had to take over his duties. "I think we should head back to camp now," he said sadly. He could feel his wife's silky tresses tickle his skin as she nodded before straightening back up.

Will kept one arm locked around Elizabeth's waist as he placed one open palm against her cheek and lifted her face to his. He bent his head to look deep into her downcast eyes and gave her a tiny smile before leaning in to sweetly kiss her forehead. "I love you," he whispered, "don't ever forget that."

Elizabeth kept her eyes averted, but nodded slightly. "And I love you," she murmured, her voice raspy from fighting back tears. "And don't _you_ ever forget that."

"Shall we?" Will asked, stepping back from Elizabeth, and offering her his arm. After a brief detour to reclaim his shirt, the pair began their solemn walk back to camp and the painful, but inevitable goodbye that was rapidly approaching.

Elizabeth stood in front of the neatly folded pile of clothes perched on the rock with her hands on her hips, quite lost in thought. She exhaled sharply as she stepped back and turned her head to watch Will. She could see him crouched before the banked embers of the fire, carefully arranging the ragtag assortment of dry wood they had remaining, in order to ensure the fire burned as long as possible. _Just like always, he puts what he should do ahead of what he wants to do. _The thought had no sooner entered her mind than it occurred to her that on this one occasion, what he _should _do and what he _wanted _to do were one and the same thing – taking care of her. That realization was quite humbling and touching all at the same time. It didn't seem to matter to him that shortly he would be leaving her for what seemed like forever. As her husband, he was now responsible for her well being and while he could still fulfill that responsibility, he would. While Will had never knowingly shirked any of his obligations, this particular one was far more significant to him than any other. Elizabeth was certain of that. Just knowing that she would always be his first priority was a comfort, albeit a small one.

Before turning back to her task, she noticed Will pull something from a pocket. She immediately recognized it as the ever present leather cord he normally wore with its assortment of odds and ends he had collected over the course of their wanderings. _But he wasn't wearing it today. Where has it been?_ She blushed at the memory of where and when she had seen it last. _She _had been the one who had removed it the night before and unceremoniously tossed it aside; complaining as she did, that it, quite irritatingly, kept hitting her in the face. Apparently, he had only recently retrieved it from its temporary exile in the sand.

Elizabeth watched him sort through the bric-a-brac that ornamented the cord, looking for something specific, or at least, that's how it seemed. He obviously found the particular piece he wanted, for he carefully, almost lovingly, traced its shape with his fingers before slipping the cord around his neck. She shrugged her shoulders and returned her attention to the rock that had so fascinated her just moments before. She stepped up to the discarded garments and studiously searched for the tiny pouch she had hidden among them the night before. She quickly located her prize and tucked it neatly into the palm of her hand before returning to the campsite and her much beloved husband.

Will looked up and wiped one soot smeared hand across his brow as he heard Elizabeth's approach. A smile that matched hers quickly spread across his face. He had no idea what she had been doing – only that she had wandered off by herself while he had taken it upon himself to set everything in order. And while it wasn't like her to do something of the sort, he was sure she had a reason.

"You're filthy," Elizabeth mock scolded. "What am I going to do with you?"

Will just smiled back at her, the mischievous twinkle in his eye answering her question without words. She blushed furiously at the unspoken implication. He examined the palms of his hands and then the backs and shrugged before he placed them on his knees and pushed himself to a standing position.

"You should be used to this by now," he said holding up both hands for her to inspect.

"You would expect so, wouldn't you?" She offered him her hand. "Come with me, I have something I want to show you."

"Do you now?" Will twined his fingers among hers and followed her back to the blanket where they had spent the night. He obediently complied with her unspoken request to sit down beside her.

Elizabeth opened the well worn bag she had carried for so long, and emptied the contents into her open palm. Will immediately recognized both the single pearl drop pendant she had been wearing on their wedding day and the delicate silver horseshoe he had made for her more than a year earlier for the same occasion.

"I didn't know you had those still," Will's forehead creased in thought as he contemplated what Elizabeth intended to do with them now. He flinched as she ran the fingers of her free hand under the leather cord he wore around his neck. However, he sat perfectly still as Elizabeth allowed the back of her hand to glide smoothly over his skin as she followed the necklace around to the back of his neck and pulled it over his head.

"What are you doing?" Will was no closer to divining her purpose than he had been, but her actions had given him some ideas.

"I want you to have these," she said quietly, but forcefully, as she picked at the water tightened knot in the leather. "I want you to keep them with you always, so you'll think of me and remember to come back." She remained focused on her task and did not look at Will.

"I don't need those to remind me to do that." Will reached over and removed the necklace from her hands, then took his knife and cut through the leather.

"But _I _need you to have them," she whispered, turning her head to look at him. "Please?"

Will smiled softly and took the pair of talismans from her hand. He threaded the horseshoe on the cord and allowed to fall into the jumble of other odds and ends he had collected. He then tied a knot in the cord four or five inches above the rest of the charms before adding the pearl to the cord. As he sat there with the charms spread out in his hand, he looked at the one he had most recently added – the one he had returned to its place just before he left the _Dutchman. _He turned away from Elizabeth as he removed it from the cord. He kept it hidden in his hand while he retied the two loose ends and returned the necklace to its proper place.

Elizabeth had noticed the shy smile that appeared on Will's face just before he had turned away from her and wondered what had caused it.

"Give me your hand," he asked softly, turning back to her.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, promptly sticking out her right hand, palm up, in front of him.

"I mean the other one…and close your eyes." He stared directly into her eyes as he spoke, making it nearly impossible for her not to comply with his request.

Elizabeth tilted her head to one side as she pondered what he was up to, but did as he asked. She slowly closed her eyes and offered him her left hand, again with her palm facing up. She inhaled sharply and trembled as he lightly traced over her scar with his forefinger before gently turning her hand over. She felt her heart begin to race as she felt the cool circlet of metal slide over her ring finger.

Will leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You can open your eyes now," he whispered.

Tears welled in Elizabeth's eyes as she gazed at the plain gold band—her wedding ring—on her finger. "I…I thought," she managed to choke out, "I thought…"

"You thought I no longer had it." He almost sounded guilty at having allowed her to believe that.

Elizabeth nodded silently, continuing to stare at the ring. By itself, it was nothing more than an unremarkable, almost insignificant piece of metal, but combined with the promises made in her quest for the right to wear it, it became her most prized possession.

"It would be a lie to tell you that I didn't consider tossing it into the depths when—"

"No," she interjected. "We promised not to speak of that."

"You're right. But just know that I couldn't do it. Even if…you…." Will swallowed hard. "I needed it— as a tangible reminder of how much I had always loved you, how much I still loved you then, and how much I would _always_ love you." He reached up to caress her cheek.

Elizabeth lifted her face to his. "I should have known you still had it, but I was afraid to ask …"

"Don't ever be afraid to ask me something. I couldn't bear that." He took her left hand in his and looked at the ring with a curious expression on his face. "It's too big, isn't it?"

Elizabeth nodded her head and began to giggle.

"That won't do, you'll lose it;" The distress in his voice was clear.

"I think I can fix that." Will raised an eyebrow as Elizabeth retrieved the leather cord that had been wrapped around the neck of her bag. She made a neat loop with the leather and secured the ring to it, then tied the ends together and slipped it around her neck. "Will that do for now?"

Will slipped his fingers under the cording and let them run down its length to where the thin gold band now rested between Elizabeth's breasts. He heard her sharp intake of breath as his fingers glided over her skin. "Yes," he said, meeting her eyes, "I think that will suffice."

Elizabeth smiled happily as she moved in to kiss him – slowly at first, but with a heated intensity that left no room for doubt as to how she felt about her husband. Will put one hand on the back of her neck and wrapped the arm around her shoulders as he gently laid her back on the blanket – never once breaking contact with her parted lips. Elizabeth shifted to a more comfortable position as she once again felt the heat of desire flow through her limbs. She moaned softly and pulled Will closer to her. It was impossible to tell if she wanted him more than he wanted her, but what should have been the perfect lover's tryst was marred by the fear that this would be the last time they would have any contact with each other – physical or otherwise—for ten years.

Will and Elizabeth were lay facing each other, so close that they were practically breathing the same air, staring longingly into each other's eyes. They gently touched each other's faces with their fingertips, as if each were trying to imprint the other's image permanently into their brains. Although neither of them had mentioned it, they both knew that their time together was rapidly nearing an end.

"Why do you love me?" Elizabeth asked hardly above a whisper.

Will raised one eyebrow curiously. "That's an odd question."

"I know. But why?"

"I don't know. I can hardly remember not loving you. It just _is. _It's part of who I am."

Elizabeth smiled almost shyly, but quite pleased with his response. "When did you first realize it?" She pulled off the cord holding her ring and looked at it in the light.

"I've told you that," Will chided jokingly. "It was from the first moment I saw you. Why are you asking this now?" He stroked her cheek, trailing his fingers down her slender neck.

Elizabeth averted her eyes from Will's face as she allowed the leather cord to slip through her fingers onto the blanket. "I don't know. I can't remember when it happened for me or when I realized it, and I want to remember all of it, every single moment we've spent together."

"I don't think it's possible for me to have enough memories of you. I don't want to think about what it's going to be like not having you by my side, knowing where you are, knowing if you're safe."

Elizabeth met his eyes once again, marveling at all she could see there, and wondering if anyone but her could see it too. She finally understood what people meant when they would say that the eyes were the window to the soul. She could see Will's soul in his eyes, and could count the innumerable times it had been wounded and then healed – by _her_. _Please God, take care of him. Let this be the last of our trials. _

Will noticed that Elizabeth was lost in thought and remained silent. He tilted his head up just enough to allow him to kiss her forehead.

"Sometimes I think I don't deserve you," Elizabeth blurted out unexpectedly.

"I asked you before to never say that again. You know it's not true."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and nodded, but did not speak.

"If there is any possible way for us to see each other or communicate in any way, I will find it. I _promise _that I won't give up until I do."

"Or until you come home."

"Or until I come home," Will echoed. "…Home." He spoke as if the word were unfamiliar to him. "I like the sound of that. Just exactly where shall that be?"

Elizabeth opened her eyes. Her forehead creased and her eyebrows knit in confusion. Her face relaxed for a moment, considering their options, then tensed back up as she realized that neither of them had a place to call home anymore. "I don't know," she admitted cheerlessly.

Will smiled sadly at his wife. "The beach. The one where we used to go for walks when we wanted some time alone. Meet me there."

"But what if…"

"Shhh," Will cut her off. "We'll worry about everything else if the time comes."

"When, not if," Elizabeth corrected as she wrapped her fingers around his and moved them away from her face.

Will's smile grew. "I stand corrected. _When,_ not _if_." As he spoke, he raised himself up on one elbow, placed on hand on Elizabeth's waist and gently pushed her over onto her back while meeting her lips with his own. Elizabeth buried both hands in the mass of dark brown curls surrounding his face and allowed herself to melt into the kiss. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she gasped for breath when Will pulled away from her.

"I…" He averted his gaze from her. "I need to get ready soon – _now_." He made no effort to hide the pain in his voice. With that, he sat up and began to gather his scattered clothing.

Elizabeth also sat up, squeezed her eyes shut and hugged herself for a moment before she too began to dress. She stood, ran her fingers through her hair, rebelted her dress for the first time since the night before, and smoothed out the fabric, trying her best to ignore the fact that her husband was preparing to leave her.

Elizabeth's heart screamed that this couldn't be happening, but her head reminded her that it had to be so. What had been done to them, _for_ them, had to come at a great price, and now it was time to settle their debt.

"Would you bring me my boots?" Will asked without looking back at Elizabeth. He sat on a low boulder with his back to Elizabeth, unable to look at her at the moment, for fear he would not be able to make himself leave her.

Elizabeth looked around and spied the tall, black boots, still resting in the same place they had since Will had put them there the night before. She was quite familiar with those particular boots, for they had been her gift to Will in celebration of both their engagement and his twenty-first birthday. She walked over to them, leaned over to pick them up, and stopped. With an unexpected, but welcome thought of levity, she changed her mind and stepped into them. She giggled like the hardly more than a young girl she truly was, as her tiny feet slipped around inside the well-worn boots.

Will turned his head at the now too rare sound of Elizabeth's laughter, He shook his head and also laughed at the sight of Elizabeth waddling, more than walking towards where he sat. He rolled his eyes at her antics as she slipped her foot out of the left boot and handed it to him. He quickly pulled it on over his sock then glanced back at her and said, with a smile on his face, still quite obviously amused, "I'm going to need the other one."

He had wanted to steal one last look at Elizabeth before he left, but as soon as his boots touched the water he was gone from the beach and on to the deck of the _Dutchman. _He had spun around to face the island as quickly as he could in hopes of catching one last glimpse of her. He had, but the blinding green flash cast over the horizon as the ship crossed to the place between worlds, prevented him from seeing much more than a brief image of her standing at the water's edge looking out to sea. Will couldn't imagine ever becoming accustomed to the sensation of teleporting from one location to another—it was disconcerting under the best of circumstances. It didn't matter if you were ready for it or not; one second you were _here_ and then the next second you were _there_. Now he simply stood_ there_—on deck, staring off into nothingness, facing the unimaginable horror of knowing that he would not see her again for ten long years.

He was unwelcomingly struck by the irony of knowing exactly how a broken heart felt, even though his was, literally, quite far away, in another world entirely. He briefly wondered how long it had taken Davy Jones to realize that removing his physical heart did nothing to alleviate the pain from his emotional heart. At least Will knew that his was in Elizabeth's safekeeping. He hadn't thought twice about leaving the chest in her care – nor would he ever. As he had said, his heart had always belonged to her. Who better to guard it?

Dawn was just breaking in the land of the dead. It was as if the lights had gone out on one part of his life at precisely the same moment they shone on another part. _Shouldn't it be the other way around? _He had left behind the one thing – the one _person_—he had ever wanted, all to break a curse that was not of his making. Logic and reason told him that the duty he would perform for the next ten years was both noble and good, but emotion reminded him what it had cost. Will remained standing at the stern of the ship, staring out at where he had last seen Elizabeth and replayed his last day among the living – his _only_ day with his wife— in his head.

Elizabeth had watched countless sunsets in her life, but none with the anguish that this one held. It occurred to her that she had never really paid much attention to exactly how long it stayed light outside after the sun had set. Somehow it didn't seem very fair at the moment. If her world had suddenly gone dark, shouldn't the rest of it follow suit? She stood unmoving at the water's edge, the waves lapping at her ankles, each incoming rush of water covering her bare feet with another layer of the fine, white grains, while each successive retreat of those same waves washed them from beneath her, sinking her further into the sand, essentially fixing her to the island. Had it not been for that literal attachment to land, she could easily imagine herself giving in to that last second tug of the water and following the waves as they washed out. It was as if even the sea itself couldn't decide if it wanted her to stay and fight for her own survival or to taunt her with the idea of following Will.

She subconsciously reached for the necklace holding her wedding band only to find it missing. She was not as alarmed as she could have been, for she had far more important things on her mind at the moment. She continued staring into the distant horizon where the _Flying Dutchman_, along with her husband, father-in-law, and the rest of its crew had only minutes before vanished in a startling green flash. Also vanished were most of the hopes and dreams she had compiled over a large portion of her life. It hadn't been but a precious few moments since Will had left her to begin his obligation to the ship and its newly restored purpose, but it already felt like an eternity. How_ was_ she going to survive without him? Her head reminded her that she was a strong, capable, young woman who could tackle any challenge, that the dreams she and Will shared would endure their separation, but her heart wasn't so easily convinced.

Right now, the emotional pain of their parting was almost more than she could bear. It had been a struggle, but she had managed, just barely, to not let Will see her cry at the last. She knew it would have made an already untenable situation to him virtually unbearable, but now he was gone, and her silent tears threatened to flow freely as she replayed the events of the past twenty-four hours in her head.

Elizabeth forced herself to turn from the sea as the light began to fade. Her eyes strayed to the chest resting precariously on its rocky pedestal. The remaining few rays of sunlight made the delicate tracery of the chest's carved designs glow, as if it were somehow alive. She supposed that, in a way, it was. Its contents most assuredly were. She could hear the steady, strong beat of Will's heart emanating from the chest as she slowly approached it. It struck her odd that something as gruesome as the thought of a living, disembodied heart, locked in a wooden chest could, in all actuality, alleviate her fears and keep her dreams alive. Elizabeth reached out to trace the outline of the heart shaped lock and wondered what had happened to the key. _Does Will have it? Was it lost during the transition? _She had no reason, nor desire, to open the chest, but she also wanted to ensure that no one else opened it either. She knew what would happen to Will if someone, anyone, _anything_ damaged his heart. Elizabeth banished that thought from her mind as she ever so carefully picked up the chest and made her way back to the relative security of the stone circle that served as her temporary home.

She was now at a loss as to what to do with herself. With nothing else coming to mind, she set the chest down near the fire, sat down next to it, leaned against one of the rocks and tried _not _tothink. Her efforts proved fruitless. After several more failed attempts to clear her mind, she looked down at the chest sitting next to her. _"So, Will, what do we do now?"_ She jumped slightly at the sound of her own voice. It hadn't been her intention to speak out loud, but she knew she couldn't sit there in silence forever. She had to make a plan. She had to keep reminding herself that someone from Shipwreck was scheduled to come for her—but what if they forgot? And even if they did come, she certainly didn't want to live there for the next ten years. She'd had more than her fill of a pirate's life even if she was their King. Where was she going to go next? Where _could _she go?

She had no idea what the conditions were like back in Port Royal, nor did she know the status of her arrest warrant. Beckett was dead, and while he had gotten what he wanted in the bargain, he was no longer around to complete his half of it. What _had_ become of the Letters of Marque? Had she and Will been granted pardons as promised? Norrington had obviously been both pardoned and promoted, so where did that leave her?

To make matters worse, she still wasn't exactly sure where she was, either. Will had told her they were near Shipwreck Island, but that was small consolation at the moment. There were certainly no ships of the Royal Navy out searching for her this time— not that it would be to her advantage if they were—thus a signal fire would do her no good. Besides, she couldn't have started a very big one with just the lone bottle of rum she had been given. Somehow it just wasn't right that the first time she had ever been solely responsible for herself, her only viable course of action was to, in essence, sit and wait to be rescued. She smirked at the irony of it all.

Looking around, she noticed the scattered contents of the two bundles. Having nothing else to do at the moment, she busied herself sorting through them, deciding what to keep and what to leave behind. The food, save for the apples, would be left behind. The bag of coins and the knife she would secure to her person, but most certainly not in what she was wearing at the moment. The compass, the tinder box, the goblets, her letters, her dress, and the piece of oilcloth would all be bound up in one of the sacks to take with her. If her would-be rescuers wanted the bottle of rum, they were more than welcome to it. If she never saw a rum bottle again, it would be too soon – although admittedly it did have some unique uses…

She stood up and walked away from the security of the fire to retrieve her other clothes. Her sense of modesty came rushing back with a vengeance as she began to pull the dress over her head. "Elizabeth Turner," she said aloud to herself, "you've spent almost the entire day lying naked on a beach. There is no one around to see you so just get on with it." Her own words of encouragement provided little help as she self consciously changed back into the oppressively heavy outfit she had worn during the battle.

Upon finishing that task, she quickly walked back to the fire and dropped, exhausted, into a sitting position. Elizabeth heaved a heavy sigh as she closed her eyes and forced her mind to travel back to happier times, when she and Will were children, playing together on the beach. Everything had seemed so right with the world then. She smiled at the thought of how the boy who had been her best, and only, friend, still fulfilled that role—although now he had added the title of both lover and husband to his credentials.

Much to her dismay, a resounding crack from the fire shocked Elizabeth back to the here and now. Her memories were a far happier place than the one she was in. It was hard to imagine that she and Will had been married little more than one day. They had known each other for nearly half their lives. They should have been _together_, making plans for the rest of their lives as one, enjoying the giddy excitement of being newlyweds. Instead, she was sitting on a deserted beach, alone, in the dark, with nowhere to go, no one to care for her, nor anyone to even wonder where she was, or at least no one other than her now-absent husband.

Will knew where she was, but was unable to reach her even if he needed to. He had told her that Jack would make arrangements for someone to come to take her to Shipwreck, but how long she stayed there and where she went after that was her own choice. She had to keep reminding herself that she would be left to her own devices – something she had only truly done once in her life, and even then it was for the sole purpose of being reunited with Will. In a way, what she was about to face wasn't all that different – it would just last for much longer than her sojourn aboard the _Edinburgh Trader. _

Somehow that prospect didn't frighten her as much as it could have. Elizabeth closed her eyes again and took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm her frayed nerves. There was nothing she could do right now, so what was the use in worrying herself about it?

________________________________________________________________________

"This is not what I would have chosen for you."

Will started at the sound of his father's voice, but continued to stare out at the water. "And what would you have chosen?" Will sounded bitter, and rightly so, but it was not directed towards Bootstrap. He belatedly hoped that his father knew that.

"I would have had you leave me to my fate. You should be with her," Bootstrap nodded his head in the general direction that the island, and the land of the living, had been, "not condemned to a lifetime of solitude and servitude."

"But I'm not condemned to that. It's just a temporary interruption to our lives." The anger was beginning to fade from his voice.

"Ten years is a long time to ask her to wait and then only to be together for a day." Bootstrap stepped up to the railing, and looked out over the dark water –so still that it could easily have been made of glass.

"Did you ask my mother to wait for you?" Will noticed Bootstrap wince at the mention of his own wife, Will's mother.

"She was free to make her own choices," Bootstrap answered almost defensively.

"As is Elizabeth now," he replied. His own confidence in her choice unwavering in his voice.

"And did she make her choice?"

Will turned to look at his father. "Yes," he answered without hesitation. "We made our choice together, as it should be."

Bootstrap nodded in response. "Then I suppose we should find something to keep you occupied in the meantime."

________________________________________________________________________

Elizabeth had no idea how long she had been sitting next to the fire. She had managed to lull herself into some sort of trance-like state and shut out her pain and her fears. All she was aware of now, was that it was quite dark and she was sleepy. Stifling a yawn, she stood up, picked up the chest and returned to the clearing where she and Will had spent the night before. Once there, she dropped to her knees, carefully set the chest to one side and began to straighten out the rough blanket covering the sand. She smiled weakly as she noticed her nearly forgotten wedding band glinting in the moonlight. She picked it up and placed it back on her finger. Will was right; it was far too big for her to wear. She sadly slid it off her finger and draped it and its cord around her neck.

She lay down, pulled the chest as close to her as possible, then folded her arms beneath her head. She immediately noticed that Will's familiar scent still lingered on both the blanket where he had lain next to her, and on her own skin. The combination of sweat, smoke, salt air, coal fires and heated steel were uniquely his. Gone was the distinct acrid tang of gunpowder and blood that had clung to him after the battle. The memories it evoked made her long for Will all the more, and yet were a comfort at the same time. _How many things will do that to me before this is over?_

She lay alone in the dark, pining for Will, a cool breeze from the sea trickling over her skin. She could still feel the touch of his work roughened hands—a blacksmith's hands, as he had once reminded her—on her bare skin, hear his breathing, taste the salt on his skin, and see the look of complete contentment and adoration for her in his eyes. She had to hold on to those memories. They were now all she had of Will and they would have to last her. Unplanned but unavoidable tears again welled in her eyes, as Elizabeth Turner cried herself to sleep for the first of many nights to come.


	8. Darkness Falls

The familiar crunch of heavy soled boots on sand woke Elizabeth from her fitful sleep. Her lifestyle of late had taught her to sleep with an ear diligently tuned in to the sound of danger, and there certainly had been no signs of that particular aspect of her existence changing anytime in the foreseeable future. Her first groggy thought had been that everything had been nothing but a bad dream, and that Will had never left her, or at the very least would return any moment to take her away to someplace where they could live out their lives in anonymity. How or why that could have been possible mattered not. A cold knot of horror formed in her stomach as she realized that her wishful thinking was no more than just that. No amount of longing for him would bring him back. She was still where he had left her.

_Alone_.

With no one to rely on but herself.

To make matters worse, there were clearly more than one set of boots headed her way. As to who was wearing them, she had no idea. She willed herself to control the shiver of terror that coursed through her body. Her immediate impulse was to reach for either her knife or her sword and make ready to defend herself, but they too, were out of her reach. In her attempt to contain her devastating grief, she had neglected to retrieve both her and Will's swords from the beach. _Stupid, stupid, stupid. _The knife, along with the other items that had been donated in hopes of ensuring her survival, were neatly piled near the now dying fire, awaiting her departure. The only thing of any substance within her reach was the Chest and _that _she would defend to her very last breath, no matter what the cost. Will's survival was inextricably linked to her own. Should something happen to her, Will would be condemned to ferrying souls for all eternity—or worse. Fighting down her panic, and quickly evaluating the situation, Elizabeth deemed her best, and perhaps only, option was to continue to feign sleep in hopes that the intruders would take what they wanted and leave her in peace.

"Do ya think I should wake 'er?" The whispered question came from a point not three feet from her head_. How had one of them gotten that close without me noticing?_ The voice sounded younger than she had anticipated.

"She's earned her rest after all she's been through these few days past, but we can't afford to dawdle. Get 'er moving," another, much deeper voice growled from further away. Elizabeth registered her recognition of the gravelly voice with its characteristic drawl, but could not place it. _A pirate, yes, but which one? _There are so many of them now.

More footsteps, more voices, but not nearly as close as the first one she had heard. The sound of hushed conversation floated through the night air, not clear enough for her to make out all of the words, but enough to know that she was the topic of discussion. She could hear someone take four or five steps towards her and stop. Elizabeth flinched at the touch of a small hand on her shoulder.

"Cap'n Swann? Miss? Ye need ta wake up now, we've come ta take ye back ta Shipwreck," said the same person that Elizabeth had heard first.

This time her senses registered that the voice belonged to a child – a child with sadness permanently embedded in his voice. _But for what or whom? _ Elizabeth slowly, but cautiously, opened her eyes and allowed them to adjust to the dark. The moon was quite bright, but there was just enough cloud cover to prevent her from seeing any details beyond a short distance. Fortunately, or unfortunately, as the case may be, she didn't need to worry about that. Her young guest sat on his haunches not two feet from her face. He had one arm wrapped around his knees and the other hand gently shaking Elizabeth's shoulder. Elizabeth was sure she had never seen him before. Surely she would have remembered a child with hair like his. Although it was seriously in need of some quality time with a brush and comb, it had to be the most intensely brilliant copper color Elizabeth had ever seen. That, combined with startling emerald green eyes, would most assuredly make the boy stand out in a crowd.

"Yer awake! I'm Evan. Evan Ross or least that's what they call me," he said, offering her the hand that had been insistently shaking her upper body.

Elizabeth pushed herself up on one elbow and squinted tiredly at the boy. Her first inclination was to believe that he could not be more than six – seven at the most— but upon closer inspection his face told a different story. This was a boy who had not been dealt the best of hands in his childhood—a childhood that had apparently ended much too soon or quite possibly never truly begun. Elizabeth estimated that he was much closer to being a teenager than the little boy she had first taken him for. No matter what his age, as a pirate, that meant he could be dangerous. _I thought Will was a pirate when we were only twelve. _The random thought brought yet another twist of pain to her wounded soul.

"Good. She's awake," said the other voice she had heard. "Get a move on."

Elizabeth turned her head to see the form of Captain Teague, Jack Sparrow's father, ambling slowly towards her. It still surprised her to think that Jack had a father. Had someone told her that Jack Sparrow had simply staggered from the waves one day, a fully grown man, beaded dreadlocks swinging, carelessly waving around a sword in one hand and carrying an open bottle of rum in the other, she would not have doubted it for a moment. _I don't even have Jack to look out for me. _

"Boy, help her with her things. We need to get back through the Devil's Throat before it gets light. We've been out too long as it is, and we can't be having any Company ships finding their way in to Shipwreck."

Elizabeth sat up, looked around, then stood up and began to silently shake the sand from the blanket and fold it up. Her sight blurred with tears as she buried her face in the coarse fabric and inhaled deeply, all while fervently wishing that she would be able to recall Will's familiar scent for the next decade. She choked back a sob and turned to retrieve that which she treasured the most.

"I can help ye with this, I can," offered Evan as he reached for the Chest.

Elizabeth struck like a viper. "Don't_**touch**_that!" she snapped.

Evan sprung back from the chest as if burned. "I'm sorry," he stammered," I dinna mean ta fash ya. I were just…" Evan stepped back further from Elizabeth and the Chest, lowered his head and studied his bare feet, trying to disguise the fact that Elizabeth had hurt his feelings.

While Elizabeth regretted having snapped at the boy, who had clearly meant no harm, she didn't regret the reason behind her reaction. Perhaps she shouldn't have spoken so sharply, but the boy's wounded dignity paled in comparison to what she felt in regards to the Chest and the safekeeping of its contents. "No, I'm sorry. You were trying to help. It's just…" Elizabeth choked up, fighting back the tears that again threatened to run freely.

"That's it, ain't it? 'is heart is in that box. That's Cap'n Turner's 'eart in there," Evan spoke in a hushed, almost reverent tone.

Elizabeth regarded the Chest for a moment before answering. "Yes, yes it is," she said, sighing heavily, then handing the blanket to Evan and gracefully picking up the smallish wooden casket herself. "And I _need _to keep it close by. I _need _…" she hesitated and then began to cry silently. She blinked the tears from her eyes and tucked the Chest securely under one arm.

Evan reached out with one dirty hand and took Elizabeth's mostly clean one into his own. "Don't worry yerself none. Cry if ye need ta. I'll take care of ye. I promise," he said solemnly, as he lead Elizabeth to the fire and the impatiently waiting Captain Teague.

_I'll take care of you, I always will. I promise. _Those had been Will's exact words to her on more occasions than Elizabeth could count. Even when things had been strained between them, he had never taken back that promise. At World's End, when she had learned of her father's murder, Will had been the one she had run to for comfort. Elizabeth's stomach lurched as she remembered that Will had whispered that same sentiment to her that night, while she cried disconsolately in his arms. _And now that I need him the most, he's where I cannot go._

"You'll be wanting to take these."

Elizabeth flinched at the sound of Teague's voice, having momentarily lost herself in her thoughts.

The venerable captain had spoken in a way that made his words sound more of an order than a question. He made no acknowledgment of her temporary confusion as he handed her the small knife and the sack of coins, while himself keeping the bundle containing all her worldly belongings.

Elizabeth released Evan's hand only long enough to quickly swipe away her tears. She then awkwardly tied the bag to her belt using just her one free hand and then tucked the knife into the belt beside it. There was nothing that could make her relinquish her hold on the Chest.

Without a word, Teague turned and headed towards a longboat that was beached directly in front of her campsite. Will had been right, as always, to ensure that the fire remained burning, for it had provided her rescuers with a beacon to follow. _Would they have found me otherwise? Had Will suspected that Jack would ask his father to come find me? _

"I have a boat already," she mumbled to anyone who was listening. She turned her head in the direction the boat she had used _should_ be, but it was not there. She stood for a moment, with a puzzled expression on her face, staring off into the darkness, wondering how anyone could have moved the boat without her hearing. She certainly hadn't thought she had been that hard fast asleep—it certainly hadn't felt like she had been. _Has he only been gone a few hours? _

"It's already been taken back to the _Guardian _by my men," Teague said, anticipating Elizabeth's confusion and solving her mystery. "The mite and I will be taking you in this one," he added, gesturing towards the waiting longboat, but never once breaking his stride.

Elizabeth stood in stunned silence at all that was happening and watched Teague's determined retreat. She hadn't given much thought as to exactly who would come to her rescue after Will's departure, but it made some sort of bizarre sense that it would be Captain Teague. Jack didn't trust many people and of all the possible people he could have entrusted with her safety, she supposed that his own father was the one he mistrusted the least. It should have come as no surprise that the entire recovery mission thus far bore the distinct stamp of Jack's somewhat convoluted planning strategies. As she stood t here pondering how the plan was apparently progressing with uncharacteristic flawlessness, she gradually became aware of a hand, not much smaller than her own, gently tugging her in the direction her would be rescuer had taken.

Elizabeth took the seat in the dead center of the boat, with the Chest clutched to her, her arms wrapped protectively around it. She lacked both the physical and emotional reserves to even begin making inquiries about the current plan. For the first time in her life, she seemed resigned to allow events around her to just happen with no input on her part. She was too distraught to care about much of anything other than protecting the Chest and getting herself to safety.

Evan sat patiently to one side of the boat, staring awe stuck at the Chest in Elizabeth's lap. Even in Elizabeth's current state of emotional turmoil, she was remotely aware that the boy had appointed himself to be her protector, whether she liked it or not. She certainly didn't think she needed one, even when one would clearly have been to her benefit, but there was some small comfort in knowing that there was somebody—_anybody—_left who made her a priority.

Captain Teague sat across from her, and although he was facing her direction, his attention was focused elsewhere. He never once looked her in the eyes, but continued to stare off into the distant night. _What could he possibly see there? _ Two more residents of Shipwreck Island manned the oars as they began the short trip from the beach to the waiting ship in total silence.

The _Guardian _wasn't a very large ship. Out of more habit than interest, Elizabeth turned a full circle taking in the number of masts and other details. Her best guess was that it was perhaps a caravel or something similar. And although quite capable of traveling long distances, she was sure that this particular one tended to stick to the waters surrounding Shipwreck Island. Its sleek design practically ensured that she was fast—perfect for harrying potential prey or intruders. She laughed nervously to herself as she remembered her father's frustration with her fascination with ships and sailing over more seemly pastimes befitting a young lady of her station. Had he ever realized that her apparently inappropriate interest in ships, naval battles and pirates had served her far better than embroidering a sampler ever could have?

As children, even Will had not understood her obsession. She had a sudden vivid flash of Will and herself when they were young, probably not more than 13, telling her that he would never _ever _go to sea again. He had nearly lost his life in one shipwreck, so why tempt fate? He had been perfectly content to remain with his feet firmly planted on the ground. "And look where you are now," she said aloud without meaning to. _And I miss you so much that it hurts. _

"Wha'?" Evan asked.

"Leave her be, boy," Teague interjected before Elizabeth could answer. "I've asked the Captain to make his cabin available to you. It's a short jaunt back to Shipwreck, but you might be more comfortable there."

"Thank you, but no. I think I would rather stay on deck," Elizabeth responded emotionlessly. She scanned the area immediately around her in search of a suitable place to ride out the short journey. Spying a likely looking trunk that would afford her a view of the water over the balustrade, Elizabeth walked listlessly over to it and gracefully seated herself on her makeshift berth. She forced herself to keep her chin up and her eyes focused on the midnight black water, as she sat with one arm wrapped protectively around the Chest and the other resting lightly on its lid. In the near complete silence, she thought she could hear the quiet, but steady beat of Will's heart. _It's beating in time with mine._

She had no idea how long she had sat there, dozing off occasionally, fighting off tears constantly, staring into the dark, when she heard the sound of footsteps hesitantly approaching her. She turned her head towards the sound and saw Evan standing several feet away, holding the blanket she had brought with her. She was tempted to send him away to allow her to wallow in her grief alone, but something made her hold her tongue.

He cocked his head to one side and regarded her inquisitively. "I thought ye might be cold, so I brought this back to ye."

After a moment of awkward silence, Elizabeth finally mumbled a hushed, "thank you," and reached for the blanket.

"I've got it," Evan said quickly as he rushed forward to drape the still sandy blanket around her shoulders.

Elizabeth smiled weakly at the boy, then tentatively ran her fingers over the rough fabric hanging loosely from her shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered, "that was very kind of you." She picked up one corner and rubbed it against her cheek. _This is not how I imagined this would be. You deserve a real bed and candlelight not a moth-eaten blanket and a campfire._ "I can almost feel him," she said even softer than her whisper.

Evan blushed at her words. He tried to hide his embarrassment by looking down at his own feet shuffling nervously on the planks. "I overheard Cap'n Teague an' Cap'n Sparrow talking," he started slowly, then in a rush added, "I know I warn't supposed ta be there, but it were an accident, I swear." With that, he used his right hand to swiftly trace the figure of an "x" in the air over his heart. This action was immediately followed by him spitting on his palm and then holding it upright as if taking a sacred oath.

Elizabeth laughed lightly in spite of herself. "And what did they say?" she asked conspiratorially. The temporary respite from her heartache was unexpected, but appreciated.

Evan scrunched up his nose and frowned as he tried to decide if what he had heard was really a secret or not. Just because he had overheard it while he was somewhere he shouldn't have been, didn't mean it was necessarily something he shouldn't have heard. He stood up as straight as possible, threw his shoulders back and announced, "They said ye needs lookin' out for 'cause o'…" he stopped suddenly as his eyes locked on the box in Elizabeth's arms.

Elizabeth followed Evan's gaze to the Chest. She closed her eyes, pressed her lips together and swallowed hard. She drew in one deep breath then released it slowly before she began to speak. "It's not actually me they need to look out for, is it?" She opened her eyes and stared up at the velvety black sky. "It's this, isn't it?" she asked, as she rubbed one hand across the lid of the Chest. Her voice broke as the tears started to flow yet again.

Evan cautiously stepped closer to Elizabeth and placed one dirty hand on top of hers reassuringly. "I…I dunna know. I dinna hear that part." He gave her a weak smile. "But since I promised I'd look after ye, I guess that means I'll be right here." The boy stopped to consider his words for a moment. "Unless ye'll be wantin' ta send me away?" Evan quirked one eyebrow questioningly as he spoke.

Elizabeth again gave a faint laugh and smiled through her tears. It was crystal clear to her that Evan was fervently hoping he would be allowed to stay. "And what do your parents think of this plan?"

Evan shuffled his feet uncomfortably and frowned. "I don't be having no one 'cept for meself."

"Evan, is it? How old _are_ you?" Elizabeth asked quietly, fighting back another flood of memories as she spoke, memories of another young boy at sea with no one to look out for him.

"Eleven," he answered proudly. "Or that's what they tell me. Either way, I'm near to bein' a man what can take care of 'imself." He puffed out his scrawny chest with pride.

The image of that other boy, not much older, also apparently an orphan, surged back into her mind. That one too had been incomparably resourceful and proud of it. Despite the tears that welled in her eyes and her trembling lower lip, Elizabeth smiled at the memory of the day Will had quite unexpectedly entered her life and changed it forever. _For better or worse. _They had not actually said that part of their vows, but there had never been even the slightest doubt that the intent was there.

"How long have you been on your own?" Elizabeth's voice cracked slightly.

"My whole life," he said simply.

"Well that's hardly possible, now is it?" Elizabeth continued to be amused at her self-proclaimed protector and his increasingly strange tale.

Evan shrugged by way of reply. He had lived all of his short life in the company of people who viewed the truth as somewhat flexible. Finding that someone didn't believe him was pretty much an everyday occurrence. "I know I must of 'ad a mum and all that, I might of even 'ad a da' too, but I canna remember 'em. I've been on one ship or another for as long as I know. "

"Oh?" Elizabeth was taken aback by the Evan's matter of fact manner. "And who looks out for you when you're not at sea?" she inquired, remembering how hard life had been for Will with no real family and yet _he_ at very least had some degree of cursory supervision from the Browns.

"I told ye, it's just me. As long as I dunna overstay my welcome in any one place it works out fine. A body learns who ta stay clear of pretty fast when yer out at sea."

Elizabeth continued to look at Evan, staring into his startlingly green eyes, as she took in all she had learned about him over the course of their short conversation. The last thing Will has said to her was 'to keep a weather eye.' Surely he had meant for her to stay alert for any and all unexpected opportunities. Perhaps Evan was the first of those? How could it possibly be a mere coincidence that a boy, whose life bore so many similarities to Will's, had dropped into her life so soon after she had been left to her own devices? Evan might have been just a child still, but she had to admit that the thought of having a companion of sorts more than a little appealing, if for no reason other than to have someone to help her find her way in Shipwreck. _Did you know that I would need him, Will?_

"Well? What do ye say?" Evan asked hopefully.

Elizabeth forced a bigger smile than she felt at the moment. "I think having my own personal protector would be nice."

Evan grinned with unabashed pleasure. "I promise I'll take good care of ye, and I always keep me promises."

Evan's words erased any doubt in Elizabeth's mind that he had been sent for a reason, whether from divine influence— pagan or not—or just coincidence, did not matter.

Elizabeth chose to remain on deck during the entire trip to Shipwreck. The first pink rays of dawn were beginning to streak the sky as they approached the Devil's Throat—the treacherous and often lethal approach to the hidden lagoon and the settlement where the pirates resided. She shuddered involuntarily as the passage came into view. _Was it just two days ago that I saw it for the first time?_ Even in the growing daylight, the interior of the watery corridor was as black as night. The realization that she would have to go through that darkness before she could return to the light was not lost on her. Elizabeth closed her eyes and swallowed hard as she mentally prepared herself for what might lie ahead. Life as she knew it was changed forever. There was no place for her to go but forward.

No one waited at the docks to greet them, not that Elizabeth had expected anyone, but to find them completely deserted seemed unusual under the best of circumstances. Shouldn't there be people guarding the ragtag fleet knowing that the East India Trading Company was still in pursuit of the remaining pirates? There was also the matter of the presence of ships from across the seven seas; ships that belonged to people who seldom got along, and to whom sabotage was as much a habit for them as breathing. The disparity between the now silent and deserted marina and the raucous battle preparations, hardly two days before, was disconcerting at best. Only the occasional flicker of oil lamps here and there gave any indication that there were still a few people left in Shipwreck who had not long since passed out from the effects of copious amounts of rum. Not that they had needed an excuse, but they had earned a right to celebrate.

Elizabeth surveyed the ships of those pirate lords still in residence, floating peacefully in their moorings. Oddly enough, she was both relieved and disappointed that the _Pearl _was not among them. It crossed her mind to ask if it was Jack or Barbossa who now captained the ship, but she quickly discarded the question. If one of them was still here, she would find out soon enough. Besides, in her heart she already knew that neither man had any illusion that they would ever see her again. That had been clear at her departure. Panic began to set in at the realization that there was quite literally no one left for her.

"Come with me, girl," Teague grunted as they disembarked. They were the first words he had spoken since she had boarded the _Guardian _only hours before, and leaving her island fading in the distance. And _her _island was how she thought of it now. No matter what happened next, the memory of her one day with Will on that anonymous chunk of land would forever be seared into her brain. _I'll wait for you Will Turner. It doesn't matter how long it takes. I love you more than my own life. I'll be here when you return._

"Boy, where are your manners? Help her with her gear," Teague ordered, turning his back to the docks and beginning to walk away. Although he hadn't specifically said, he clearly intended for them to follow.

Evan cautiously eyed Elizabeth and the carved box she held clutched to her chest before picking up Elizabeth's small pack filled with its strange collection of mementos and other miscellaneous items she had thought she might need. After slinging the bag over his narrow shoulders, he stooped to collect the pair of well-used swords that had been left on the planks by another member of the crew. Shifting his load to balance it more evenly, he wordlessly followed Captain Teague towards the precariously stacked remains of hundreds of ships that formed the core of the pirate's lair.

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, suddenly unsure of herself, of her surroundings, and her companions. _I know none of these people and yet I have no choice but to trust them with my well-being, perhaps even my life._ Quickly deciding that she realistically had no other choice, she opted to follow her diminutive, but determined, minder and the enigmatic man who had sired the equally perplexing Jack Sparrow.

Elizabeth dutifully trudged behind Captain Teague and Evan on their seemingly endless journey through the veritable rabbit's warren of corridors that formed the interior of the tower. The trio climbed steadily upwards with each progressive step. It hadn't taken more than a few minutes before Elizabeth realized that she was, for all intents and purposes, completely lost. She struggled to control her breathing in an effort to hide her ever increasing level of anxiety. _I can't do this._

At no point did Teague even hesitate for a second at any of the innumerable forks or twists and turns they encountered along the way. If the man who was the Keeper of the Code intended for Elizabeth to doubt her ability to negotiate the maze of passageways on her own, then he had succeeded. Furthermore, it had eradicated any random consideration she might have given to striking out on her own. _Where else could I even go? I have no one._

Truthfully, all she wanted at the moment was to be left alone to wallow in her grief. It didn't even matter where just so long as no one bothered her or expected anything from her. She had been pulled in so many different directions for so long, that she hardly knew which path was right for her. All that mattered at the moment was that her heart wasn't irreparably broken—there was still the promise of Will's eventual return— but it was a hair breadth from it. It was of no consequence that her tears and despair would do nothing to change the situation. She needed to mourn her loss –not only of Will, but also the life she had known, the life she had anticipated, the family she had dreamed of, the only family she had, and undoubtedly the numerous other things that had yet to occur to her.

Eventually the trio stopped before a doorway that opened towards the interior of the complex— or at least Elizabeth_ thought_ it did. Between the circuitous path they had taken along their course, and her current inability to focus on her surroundings, she had become completely disoriented. She stared off into the dimly lit corridor, wondering where it led. _If I really were being held prisoner, I would have long since given up hope of escaping. I could wander these halls for eternity and never find my way out._

The musical rattle of iron keys drew Elizabeth's attention back to Teague. She turned towards him just in time to watch him unlock the door and push it open. "You might be the King, but your quarters are no better than the rest of ours," Teague commented as he entered the room, motioning for Elizabeth to follow.

The interior of the cabin was lit by a single oil lamp placed on a writing table set in the middle of the room. What little light there was from the breaking dawn filtered in through the open windows—portholes actually—and shone on the narrow bed pushed up against the bulkhead. _Or is it just a wall now? _From her vantage point, it appeared that the bed had both a pillow and clean sheets. _When was the last time I slept in a real bed?_ It was apparent that her arrival had been both anticipated and expected.

"Rest while you can. Someone will come for you when it's time."

"Time for what?" Elizabeth asked, but was answered only by the sound of the door closing. She turned and stared at the closed door for a moment, suddenly feeling both literally and figuratively shut off from the rest of the world. She shivered, not from cold, but from anguish, as she hugged herself.

Turning back to the windows, she noticed the tiny houses clustered haphazardly on the shores of the lagoon or tenuously clinging to the steep cliffs formed by the caldera of the extinct volcano. Delicate tendrils of smoke wafted up from nearly every chimney she could see. For the first time since her ordeal had begun she stopped to consider that even the pirates had families of sorts._ Do these men have wives and families like everyone else? Am I the only one left who is completely alone?_

She squeezed her eyes tightly shut; holding back the tears that never seemed too far away. _This can't be all that my life has been reduced to. I can't let that happen. I won't let that happen. _She opened her eyes as she walked to the bed and sat down gingerly on the edge. After so long as sea, she had more than halfway expected it to swing like the hammocks many of the crew normally slept in. It almost felt unnatural for it to remain stationary.

She had no idea how much time had passed with her sitting there, staring off into nothingness and completely oblivious to the world around her. _I have to fight. Will expects that of me. _Suppressing a yawn, Elizabeth lay down on the bed, futilely wishing that her husband was there beside her. _I felt so safe sleeping next to him._ She lay on one side with the Chest pulled tightly against her. No matter how much she didn't want to accept it, the reality that one chapter of her life had closed before it should have began to sink in while a new chapter was about to open. With far less effort than she expected, Elizabeth Turner slipped into a dreamless sleep that only came from complete mental, physical and emotional exhaustion.

_Author's note: Yes, this is the end of this story sequence, but not the end of the tale. Jack E. and I will be continuing the adventure in a new series titled _Chasing the Horizon. _Keep an eye out for it!_


End file.
